


Black Eyes & Bloodlust

by SculptorOfBeginnings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, ABO, Alpha Dean, Alpha!Dean, Dark reader, F/M, Mark of Cain, Omega Reader, Slow Burn, Smut, Violence, aboverse, dark!Reader, omega!reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-10-31 21:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 56,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17857367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SculptorOfBeginnings/pseuds/SculptorOfBeginnings
Summary: Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

A deep sigh heaved its way through your chest. Dr. Adams waited expectantly in the chair across from you, his eyes soft as he watched from behind his snazzy square spectacles. He didn’t comment when you shook your head, running your hands through your hair and down your face.

It was day 47 of your stay at the ward, and your 14th visit with the middle-aged psychiatrist. So far, there had been little progress. Nightmares still forced you awake, screams echoing into the darkness within an hour of falling asleep every night. The week before, they had switched you to a new sleeping pill—one that was supposed to shut down your dreams.  The good news?

You weren’t waking up anymore.

The bad? Instead you were locked away in your own mind, forced to live every second of terror your nightmares could muster.

“I keep waking up in pools of blood.” Your eyes were closed as you spoke, your voice barely over a whisper. You heard his soft breathing over the hum of the air conditioner and tried to inhale his calming Beta scent over the sterile fumes that permeated everything around you. Pacing yourself to his breath helped calm you, and you tried to focus only on that. The smack of his mouth as he wet his lips, the soft inhale of breath as he shifted to write something down. You wanted to look at him. To plead with him to help you…

But there was nothing he could do, and you both knew it.

“Go on… You know this is a safe space.” His voice was a comforting warmth in the cold of your memories, and you scrubbed at your eyes with your fists, trying to rid yourself of the violent images hiding behind them.

“When uh…” A couple of steadying breaths later, you opened your eyes. “When I wake up, I’m covered in blood. I mean fucking _soaked_ … Just…Puddles of it drenching the mattress. I can feel the knife in my hand… It’s…It’s like this shit is bleeding into reality Doc and I really don’t know what to do.” Your voice cracked at the end, and he nodded.

“How long does it take the hallucination to dissipate after you wake up?”  His eyes peered curiously at you over his glasses. You managed a shrug as you thought.

“Five minutes? It doesn’t go away quick I’ll tell you that.” You sank back into the couch and allowed the fluffy cushions to swallow you. “This is new and it’s worse. You need to get me off these meds.”

Doctor Adams sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “It’s only been a week. You know we can’t do that. With your Omega biology…” He took in your red rimmed eyes and had to fight back real emotion, hating himself for not being able to help you so far. He’d never had a perfectly healthy person with no history of mental illness suddenly start having night terrors of this caliber, and the evolution of them as you’d started treatment was unprecedented. He was at a loss… The entire team was, and it was getting harder to hide that from you.

“Not that shit again, Doc… _Please_.” Your weak voice caused him to flinch.

“Y/N… How about this.” He paused at your hopeful expression. “How about you tell me about last night’s dream in detail, and I’ll talk to the team about halving the dosage. We can’t switch them and risk interaction with your heat meds.”

The burn of tears was unexpected as the hope in your eyes faded. This was not supposed to be your life. Fine one day, and full on crazy the next? Who _does_ that?!

You wanted to tell him more.

You wanted to explain the feel of that bone blade in your hand, the feeling of completion as its teeth plunged into soft flesh and tore a soul from it’s body.

But the words wouldn’t come. The curdle of shame in your belly wouldn’t let them escape. You were too afraid of yourself now.

You had never actually murdered anyone; never even thought about it… That didn’t change the fact that every night you saw yourself killing. Ripping bodies to pieces in flashes of vicious imagery you still couldn’t fully comprehend. Black eyes and bloodlust had haunted you for months now, but since the new medication started it had escalated from dreams. The new, much darker feelings following you into the waking hours was haunting.

And it was calling to you. Your hand flexed automatically around the full feeling in your palm despite its emptiness. Even awake, you could feel its weight. You scratched absently at your right arm, at the spot on just below your elbow that had been itching incessantly since the dreams started.

“I can’t remember it. I only remember the blood.” You lied smoothly. The doctor’s eyes bore into you, searching for the lie but missing it completely. He nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer and sat back in the chair.  

“Doctor Mara had a suggestion I promised I’d run by you if the dreams hadn’t left you during this run of medicine. Interested?” He knew he didn’t actually need your permission for anything, but they preferred the cooperation of patients in his division.

Bile rose from your stomach as you nodded. He cleared his throat. A small smile curved at the corner of his lips, making your blood suddenly run cold.

“We have an expert flying in tomorrow.” Your eyebrow rose questioningly.

“Aren’t _you_ supposed to be the experts?” He chuckled and shook his head.

“A _hypnosis_ expert. We want to see if maybe we can unlock whatever is causing this through less conventional methods.”

Your stomach clenched, and a chill settled over you. Hypnosis? You didn’t believe in that crap.

Then again, you hadn’t believed you could ever go insane for no reason either. You debated the consequences, deciding that it wouldn’t work anyways, so there was no reason to say no.

“Alright… Let’s do it.”

 

__~*~__

The last notes of a song he didn’t know rang out of the piano. His own fingers had somehow tapped the tune, so he had to have heard it _somewhere_. A memory flitted across his mind, but only blurry images snatched their way through. Some snagged the threads of familiarity, but they were never enough to make an actual connection. The song had remained hidden in his subconscious since he’d taken on the mark. It was just a feeling he had that wouldn’t go away. Until it wasn’t anymore.

Since waking up from his death nap, it was there.

It pulsed steadily like a soft drum, smoothing the edges of violence that raged through his mind and body. It helped the demon keep the Mark in check.  

“I didn’t know you could play,” called Harvy, the unassuming Beta tasked with cleaning the bar for the night. He didn’t see the demon’s deep frown because Dean didn’t look up. Random notes played out from the piano as he fiddled with a few keys aimlessly, his voice gruff as he deemed to respond.

“I can’t.”

When his eyes had opened up black for the first time, he felt thankful to be strong enough to be in control of himself again. Now, he wasn’t so sure he could do it without the feeling. Without the song. All the power in the world didn’t compare to the peace he felt when he dipped a toe into the healing waters by playing it. Or humming it, strumming it, tapping it out onto the dashboard or bartop.

And he **hated** that.

The demon didn’t want peace. The demon just wanted control. So he listened to his music louder, sang a little louder and drank a little more to drown out the noise in his head. It worked, but never for long. The mark was always pushing and testing his boundaries, and _that God damned song_ …

Jumping on every decent piece of Omega tail that looked his way soothed him a bit too. Like mini bursts of rage, he ripped orgasms from the women he stayed with– Pulling out every trick to make them sing so he could bathe in their screams. The screams silenced the song, but when the screams were done it all came rushing back and filled his body with a warmth the demon didn’t want to feel.

His palm would twitch when they would curl into him in post-coital bliss, seeking a feeling he wasn’t able to provide. His arm would come down across their shoulders in a seemingly comforting gesture, but in reality he was tracing with his finger the paths he would use to slice up their pretty skin if he had less control.

Instead, he cut himself. Dean’s hand didn’t even bleed as he slipped the First Blade down his palm. His eyes flashed black and the cut healed just as quickly as it had been made. Crowley’s voice roared over the noise in his head, mingling with the quiet sound of Harvy cleaning the tables around the bar and reminding him of his oh-so-strange status within the world.

_“What are you Dean? A demon? A human? **PICK A BLOODY SIDE!** ” _

The echoes of the King of Hell’s accent were fading when the atmosphere shifted, the all too familiar scent of desperate Alpha invading his space. _Sam_. A second later his brother stepped through the door looking just as distraught as he smelled. The demon let out an annoyed breath and set the blade on the piano top where Sam could get an eyeful.

So Sam could remember who, and more importantly, _what_ he was dealing with.

“Hiya Sammy.” Dean spent a second eyeing the bartender before honing in on the nuisance before him. The Beta was pretty cool, and didn’t need to see what Dean would be doing to Sam if he wanted to keep coming around. “Hey Harv, why don’t you go grab a smoke?”

–

Sam got him. The fight with that fucking human had distracted him just long enough and _Fucking. Sam. Got. Him._ The powerless demon seethed with rage as his glare bore into the King of Hell over the hood of the Impala. _Sam and Crowley._ They would pay for this the second he got a chance. 

And a second was all he’d really need. Sam would slip during this endeavor of his at least once, Dean would make sure of it.

And then he would finish it. Kill Sam and end this stupid game his brother had been playing. Kill Crowley for getting in his way. Kill that human who had enabled his brother’s final move to cure him.

Then he would be free to chase it. Find the source of the feeling that was holding him back tighter than the demon cuffs currently around his wrists, and destroy it.

 

__~*~__

It had been a rough morning. Some creepy asshole named Lester had met the pointy end of the bone blade in your dreams and you’d woken up covered in his blood with tears running down your face. It took forever for the vision to go away, but somehow you endured the ordeal without having to tell anyone about it.

The doctor meant to perform your hypnosis had arrived not long after in a grand fashion. The helicopter he landed on the roof made the entire building come alive, attendants flitting from one room to the next in their attempts to calm the patients that had been triggered by the noise. After arriving, he didn’t see you for another six hours.

 _Doctor Cameron_. His name rolled unpleasantly on your tongue; already you didn’t like him. Laying on a couch with an unfamiliar Alpha hovering above you was disconcerting. His scent was nice enough and didn’t evoke the same loathing his name did, but the medications you were on made your body react to his close proximity in unpleasant ways. Your stomach churned at the perceived invasion of your senses and you had your eyes screwed tightly shut in an effort to calm it. His voice was rich and deep with that Alpha timbre that had the power to bring Omegas to their knees.

You guessed that was why they’d chosen him. His voice should only help your mind calm as it naturally responded to his orders to relax. In your current state however, you were worried it wouldn’t work. Your body was rejecting his scent, hopefully your mind could convince it to go along for the ride.

Your right hand absently clenched and opened as he began to speak in an authoritative monotone. He led you down deeper into yourself, closer and closer to the dark spot you’d been trying to avoid as he pushed you into your last dream. The farther you went, the more you had to ignore the burning in your arm. Instead of keeping you alert, it seemed as though the burn was dragging you deeper. When he felt you were where he wanted you, the doctor snapped his fingers.

As instructed, on his snap your vision pulled into razor sharp focus. You didn’t think about how your eyes were still closed.  

“Are you there?” His voice was an echo that barely reached you where you sat in the front seat of a car, staring intently at the man you remembered killing.

“Yes,” you mumbled in response as the hair on your arms stood up.

“Where are you?”

“I’m in a car. He’s here.”

“Who’s there?”

“Lester…” The doctor stared concernedly at your arm from the chair he had taken up residence in. A red spot was growing where you rubbed at it even in your trance. He watched as your body twitched, deep within the hold of his hypnosis. His perusal of your chart had made for an immensely interesting read, and the way you were responding to the procedure was impressive.

“Who is Lester?” He struggled to keep the excitement out of his voice.

“My next victim.” Your words were emotionless.

“Y/N, What are you doing?” The Alpha’s sudden tone of concern penetrated into the world around you, but no longer were you in control of how you responded.

Neither was he, he realized as you sat up with your eyes still closed. The _dream_ was in control. Your legs swung fluidly off the couch, feet landing with a thud on the soft carpet. Your right hand closed aggressively over it’s emptiness.

“Ah, cause you’re the expert huh?” Your voice was deeper than he expected. The doctor inhaled your scent as he watched you closely. He’d yet to have a patient sit up like this during a session, though he’d read about it. Your scent had him worried, however.

The smell of leather and whiskey invaded his nose, but he knew there was no way that smell should be coming off of you in that moment. His hand hovered over the panic button in his lap, but he decided against using it unless he really needed to.

He was Alpha, you were Omega. Even if you jumped him he thought it was physically impossible for you to seriously injure him, and he _needed_ this information. Research on Omegas undergoing hypnosis was sadly lacking.

Your posture was rigid, and he could swear there was a vibration buzzing in the air as you stood up. He gasped almost silently when your eyes popped open to reveal nothing but white. He could see the twitch as they fought to roll further back into your skull.

 _That’s new,_ he thought, trying to shake off the unease as you made no further movements.

“Listen–and this is murder 101, when you hire someone to murder your wife, you don’t want to be around when the hit goes down… It’s called an alibi.”

“Y/N can you hear me?” The Alpha put every ounce of authority he could into his voice, hoping to reach past the dream so you could tell him what you were seeing. His eyes flicked to where your hand was still curling in on itself. “I need you to do something for me, Y/N.”

Your head tilted to the side in a curious gesture, finally making true worry settle in the doctor’s gut.  He found himself locked onto your eyes even as he urged himself to look away.

“Omega, “ he growled when you didn’t respond. Your body jerked towards him in acknowledgement. “Omega, I need you to focus and go forward, go to the end of the dream, and talk to me. I need you to tell me what you see.”  

“And what are you gonna do, you gonna watch? Is that what you like to do Lester, watch?” You hissed menacingly as you took a shaky step forward.

The doctor knew there was no way you could see where you were going, but your body was aimed right at him. He stood from the chair, finally taking in the danger of the situation and deciding it might be time to end the session.

“Y/N listen to my voice,” A deep rumble from your chest answered him, setting his teeth on edge as you moved closer still. It had sounded like a challenge growl, something he could have heard from another Alpha, and _definitely_ not a sound he’d ever heard from an Omega. He had the feeling that something was very wrong, but when he reached for the panic button to call the orderlies he realized it had fallen to the floor in his haste to stand. “Y/N on the count of three I’m going to clap and you’ll –”

“Well, watch _this_ ,” You snarled, lunging forward to grab him with a strength that couldn’t possibly be your own. You thrust your closed fist perfectly into his diaphragm just below his heart, knocking the wind out of any cry he could make for help.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.

Doctor Cameron’s body collapsing into the table and breaking a lamp alerted security to the need of their presence. Without it, he would have died under Y/N’s unnaturally powerful fists as they pounded heavily into his unconscious face.

Her eyes were still rolled back to the whites, a feral snarl ripping its way from her chest as the door flung open. The two white-clad security guards, both Alphas chosen for the position based on their size and resiliency, froze at the sight before them.

An unconscious Alpha doctor being pummeled bloody by an Omega was something they’d never seen before, and that second of hesitation cost them in blood. 

Y/N was on the smaller of the two before they could blink. She hit him in the same place as the doctor. Her closed fist impacted his diaphragm, digging her imaginary knife as deep as she could get it. He made the mistake of doubling over in pain. 

The second his face was within reach, her teeth were sinking into the Alpha’s cheek. The other guard was able to wrench an arm behind her back in what should have been a painful maneuver, but the damage to his partner was done.

Y/N fought harder instead of succumbing. Blood rolled down her face as the guard’s screams alerted more to the situation. The bigger Alpha struggled against Y/N in disbelief, watching as the other man clutched at the bleeding wound. He was blindly grabbing for his baton.

“No, wait!” called out the one holding her. It was too late, however. The smaller guard succumbed to the fight reflex the Alpha within him demanded. His baton hit her midsection with a sickening _thwack_ , but the force behind it knocked the man holding her off balance just enough for Y/N to pull free. Her head collided with his nose as he fell away, bloodying him quickly and blurring his vision. His saviors came in the form of three more large men and Doctor Adams bursting into the room.

“Y/N!” exclaimed Dr. Adams, the shock in his voice evident. The guards wrestled her down as she tried to fight them all, kicking and screaming the whole way.

“It’s like she’s fucking possessed, holy shit!” one of the newcomers grunted as he wrestled with her arm.  It was a hard fought battle, but finally they pinned her long enough for Dr. Adams to stick her with the needle. Her fight lessened only slightly as the sedative took effect.

A low groan floated from the doctor on the floor, though it was almost lost in the angry snarls coming from the Omega.

“Doctor Cameron, are you alright?!” Dr. Adams knelt next to his colleague. It was hard to hear the man speaking through the commotion of security guards moving the struggling Y/N and the blood spewing from his mouth, but once they had her out of the room the pained wheezing from the downed doctor’s chest was clear. The psychiatrist guessed a punctured lung at minimum.  “I guess not. Just hold on, ok? We’ll get you fixed right up. Once we do though, you’re going to have to tell me what the fuck you did to my patient.”

## __~*~__

Sam was gone. He’d left Dean strapped into the chair in their dungeon and situated over a Devil’s Trap for what felt like hours. The demon had to hand it to him–Dean’s brother could be smart when he needed to be.

Left to stew in his own shit, Dean spent his time imagining the worst things he could say to Sam when he deemed to return. He had plenty of time to pick and choose the things that would press the hunter’s buttons the hardest to create the opening that would allow him to escape. The demon knew everything Dean knew–hell he _was_ Dean, if only in the literal sense. Using that against good ol’ Sammy boy was going to be _fun_.

The song in his head was quieter inside the Devil’s Trap and his escape was eminent, so he took the moment to appreciate the lack of peace within him. Dean fed the mark as it raged violence within, reveling in the bloody images dancing his mind.

_Faceless men in white grunting in pain as his fists pummeled them, their blood spraying his face and the tang of it thickly coating his tongue._

When he closed his eyes everything became more vivid; He could almost _feel_ every impact of his fists hitting the nameless flesh. He wasn’t sure where they were coming from. The memories weren’t his, but he enjoyed them until they went away. When they did, he replaced them with some creative ones of his own. In every scene, his victim was one of the instruments of his capture.

 _Oh Sam,_ he thought darkly as a smirk curved his full lips, _the party is gonna be over for you before it even starts._ The following hours were spent imagining the many ways he would torture Crowley and the human, too. They were all dying bloody. _Soon._

## __~*~__

“She’s unconscious. We couldn’t get her down until I dosed her with the strongest sedative we had available.” The female doctor across from him scribbled some notes unenthusiastically before looking back up to Dr. Adams.

Dr. Mara was a well respected Beta in the field of psychopharmacology. It had been her idea to try the hypnosis that had gone so terribly wrong, yet she seemed disinterested in the resulting chaos.

“And our guest doctor?” Her voice droned as if the question was a formality, not something worthy of concern.

“Punctured lung from a broken rib, just as I thought. Otherwise his injuries are not as serious as they seemed when he was covered in his own blood.” Dr. Adams kept his displeasure at her attitude hidden as best he could, but he was visibly shaken. “Doctor Cameron said she is still hypnotized. He was unable to wake her before she brought him down. This is unprecedented. How did a simple hypnosis make her stronger than _multiple_ Alphas? The sedative I gave her was for an Alpha _four times her size_ and I was still worried it wouldn’t work. I’ve never seen an Omega do so much damage.”

Dr. Mara shrugged, taking note of these latests statements in Y/N’s chart.

“I have no idea, Adams. But I guess this means we’ll have to clap or whatever nonsense ends the hypnosis once she wakes.” He let her pointed avoidance of his title slide in favor of focusing on his charge.

“You think she’ll still be under after all this?”

“Of course. Her mind was in an altered state when she went under and humans are not computers. Sedatives don’t reset the brain.”

“So it’s now possible she’s locked inside one of her nightmares in a way she never has been before?!” Dr, Adams was even more worried for his patient as the words left his mouth. _Oh god…_

“Yes, I suppose that _is_ possible, but she’s unconscious so there’s nothing we can do except figure out what happened. I’ll be speaking with Dr. Cameron. Hopefully he can tell us more. This research is going to be invaluable.” The female doctor attempted a smile but it came off as cold, making the psychiatrist look away quickly after returning the insincere gesture. His head dropped into his hand when the door slammed behind her.

## __~*~__

_Nothing felt real as Y/N opened her eyes. The walls of the room were grey, unforgiving concrete, and it seemed that a storage room of some kind was just beyond the open door in front of her. The facility didn’t have rooms like this, at least not that she had visited. Confusion set in further as she took in the impossibly tall stranger splashing something from a flask onto the floor around her. Behind him sat a cooler marked ‘human blood’ on an otherwise empty table._

_“Ritum sacrum,” His deep voice sent a pang of discomfort through her as he spoke words in another language._ Is that fucking latin? _She wondered, even as her mouth spoke words that weren’t hers in response._

_“You think I’m just gonna sit here like Crowley–”_  
_“Hanc terram consecro,”  
_ _“Gettin all weepy while you shoot me up? Well, screw that. I don’t want this.”_

_“Yeah I pretty much figured that out.”_ What the fuck is happening? _Panic filled her chest when she finally realized she couldn’t move. This stranger was handsome, but apparently he had her arms and feet locked down to a chair. To top it off, her body didn’t seem to be hers right now._

 _“You don’t even know if this is gonna work do you?”_ Know if what’s gonna work? What am I talking about? Oh god, oh god… _She silently sent up prayers to anyone who might have been listening as the scene played out.  “You know, I got a hell of a lot more running through me than demon juice,” she continued._

_“Mark of Cain, got it,” came the gruff reply as the stranger turned and she got a nice view of what he was holding: a syringe filled with blood. If she had been in control, Y/N probably would have gagged._

_“That’s right.” She could feel the words escaping her chest again, the deep rumble of a voice so seductive yet dangerous leaving her lips unbidden. The foreign vibrations sent shivers inappropriate for the situation straight to her core._

_“Buckle up.” She tried to fight as he started to move closer, but her body remained motionless. The expression on his face clearly said he wished he was doing anything except this. She felt the same._

_“Sammy–You know I hate shots.” Her eyes flicked up to his as he stepped into the circle on the floor. She saw the resolve in his features, as if he had to steel himself for what came next._

_“I hate demons.”_ Demons? _At his words Y/N’s body suddenly snapped forward with a snarl, only to be rewarded with a face-full of whatever acidic liquid was in the flask. While blinded by pain she barely felt the needle as it slipped deep into her arm, until he pressed the plunger down–_

__

“GAHHHHHHH!” Y/N lurched on the mattress of her assigned bed, eyes snapping open but not seeing anything because they were still rolled back. Her body tried to come up off the bed as agony suddenly seared through every vein. Screams tore from her throat but the only things she was aware of were red and white strobe lights of pain and fire warring inside her.

“Y/N!” Dr. Adams’ shock was completely ignored as the security guards moved to press her back into the mattress and keep her from breaking the restraints. 

Her body writhed, eyes clenching shut as quickly as they opened. Every muscle strained against the cuffs as her feet dug down and twisted the sheet around them.

The doctor stared helplessly only for a second before springing into action. He pried open her eyelid to get a look at Y/N’s blown pupils. Her savage cries were still echoing through the room, and he could swear the sound coming out of her vocal cords was three voices instead of one.

Her struggles suddenly ceased, her body collapsing to stillness. The doctor shooed the men away as he went back to examining his patient.

He frowned as he realized her body seemed perfectly normal other than the thick sheen of sweat coating her skin. Her heart rate was even, breathing steady, and her pupils were responding as they should.

 _What the hell is going on?_ A sense of dread was seeping over him as the events of the day settled in. In her stillness it was hard to believe this Omega was the same girl who had ripped into the face of one Alpha, drew blood from two others, and was only seconds before screaming like a banshee.

She really _had_ sounded possessed, though he’d never admit it because he didn’t believe in such things. There had to be something he was missing. His eyes scanned her body, marking on her chart where bruises were beginning to form from the guards holding her down.

Then he noticed it.

The rash on her arm was throbbing and swollen into the shape of a backwards seven. The skin was raw and seeping where she had been rubbing it compulsively, but this was new. He marked it down before running his finger curiously across the hot flesh, careful to avoid the open sores.

__

 _As the pain released, Y/N was able to retreat into pleasant memories. Blissfully, and for the first time in months,_ she _was in charge. As she realized this and glanced around, the details began to form._

_Soft carpet invaded the spaces between her toes. The sweet lemon smell she loved so much filled her sinuses. The sound of her fan humming played reassuringly from the next room over._

_She was sitting on her favorite bench seat, in front of her favorite piano, safely locked into her favorite place in the whole world…_

_She was_ home _._

_Y/N smiled as she allowed her fingers to brush the keys lovingly before hitting the first notes. It wasn’t hard to choose which song to play first; she’d known the second she saw her piano. With no one around to hear her mournful caterwauling, she sang along._

_“It’s been a long day, without you my friend, and I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again…”_

__

The new cropping of orderlies studiously ignored Y/N’s sleep induced whimpers, doing their best block out the genuinely scary situation lying dormant on the bed just behind them.

Alarms screeched as Y/N heaved again, supernatural screams releasing from her raw throat as she pulled against her bindings. She shouted her pain as her team of doctors stood stoically at the foot of her bed.

The episode happened twice more, almost exactly on the hour from the first one. Y/N’s doctors were baffled. None were surprised when she started mumbling in between episodes without fully waking.

_“Ain’t much difference between what I turned into and what you already are.”_

Doctor Mara looked at the wheelchair bound hypnotist. “If you need to leave…”

“No.” He interrupted, voice weak and wheezy from the strain of simply breathing. “I need to see what I’ve done to her.”

“She seems to be locked in the nightmares she’s been having, but this… We have no idea.” Dr. Adams mumbled worriedly from behind his hand.

 _“So tell me, which one of us is a monster?”_ an eerie chuckle left her sleeping body. _“Lean mean Dean”_

## __~*~__

Dean was free. He’d known it would happen, but stepping out of that Devil’s Trap was the best thing he’d felt in months. 

He ignored the music suddenly tinkling through his thoughts, the peaceful notes interrupted by lyrics that hadn’t been there before. It was his own voice crooning out to him, but a dark smirk crossed his mouth in relief when he realized he _did_ know the song.

 _Disturbingly appropriate for the situation,_ he decided as he made his way out of the room. _Still gotta go though._

Following his senses to find Sam was simple; Dean could smell the fear.

_I will see you again, Sam. In hell._

## __~*~__

Y/N’s  body went into convulsions. The doctors were startled but helpless as one of the orderlies turned the Omega to her side.

“Do you think this is the medication messing with her hormones? She hasn’t had a heat since she’s been here.” Dr. Adams directed his question to Dr. Mara, who shrugged.

“I don’t think so. Side effects of her medications do _not_ include full blown psychosis or loss of consciousness. If anything it would be fevers,”

“She _has_ a fever! And those can cause hallucinations when left untreated, which is what we’re doing to avoid medicinal interactions.” He hissed in response, seething at her nonchalance.

 _“Come on Sammy, don’t you wanna hang out with your big brother? Spend some quality time?”_ Y/N growled out the second the seizure stopped.

“How is she talking right now? And what the hell happened to her voice?“ Dr. Cameron groaned from his wheelchair as he shifted uncomfortably. He wheezed the deepest breath he could manage in through his nose to test a theory.

Her scent was still the same as it had been in their session, all leather and whiskey. Not the kind of scent Omegas typically emitted. “Doctors, did you notice?”

“Notice what?” He fought the urge to snap as his colleagues stared at him blankly.

“Her scent changed.”

“It’s the medication,” Dr. Mara responded dismissively.

“Her _medication_ made her smell like leather and whiskey?!” Dr. Cameron’s voice rose painfully, causing him to flinch against himself.

“ _Leather and Whiskey_?” Dr, Adams questioned incredulously, suddenly very interested.

“Personally, I like the disease” The unmoving body whispered. _“_ Let’s finish this game”

All occupants of the room were glued to the sight as Y/N began to struggle against an invisible foe, foam seeping from between her lips.

“I’ve never heard of anything like this. We need to look into it.” Dr. Cameron’s words were so soft one could have mistaken them for empathy. Dr. Adams only nodded in response.

## __~*~__

Dean struggled, his eyes flashing black as he used every ounce of strength to fight the angel holding him back. A demonic growl wrenched itself free as he realized his plan had failed. 

Now Castiel was another name added to the list.

Once unconscious, Dean dreamt. The Mark played a sordid music video of his past violences over the soundtrack of _her_ song.

## __~*~__

All of the waiting culminated into a final animalistic scream. The following silence was heavy, weighing on all who basked in it.  

Y/N’s eyes opened. Seeing her pupils was an unexpected but welcome reprieve from the whites that had haunted them the whole day for several of the doctors present..

“You look worried fellas,” Y/N grated out before going into a coughing fit. Her head dropped like a stone as the darkness closed in.

If not for the slight rise and fall of her chest, anyone would think she was a corpse.  Her body was no longer covered in sweat, sure, but the color that had accompanied her frenzy was gone and the healthy body from earlier in the day now seemed drained and frail.  

Fairly sure the episodes were finished, Dr. Adams took the time to look her over again. He noted curiously that her rash, once prominent, was now almost invisible.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.

The only activities available to you were answering questions and staring at white walls; it made a week feel like an eternity.

Doctor Cameron’s had been the first fuzzy face you saw after waking from your episode, but you almost hadn’t recognized him through the bruises. 

He was alone in the room with you, aside from the guards still posted in the doorway. His apology for putting you in your current situation was as stiff as your back felt from laying down for so long, and somehow included listing the various injuries you’d given him in what he called, ‘your fit of rage.’ You didn’t care, you just wanted him gone. Between the sour tinge his scent had taken on and the awkward way he kept checking out the guards at your door, you deducted he was feeling the same. You were thankful when the short interview ended and he left your room for the last time.

On the outside, you felt badly for what had happened, and it was disheartening to know you were capable of the intense violence splattered across the hypnotist’s body. Inside, however, a dark beast had taken root, and it was growling in satisfaction with the pain you had caused. It had listened to every word the doctor said, eating up the bitter flavor of his emotions.

A week of no nightmares had you and your team of medical professionals at another loss. Dr. Mara insisted daily that the hypnosis had released the mysterious condition, and Dr. Adams was the only one who seemed to disagree. In his opinion, it was medically impossible your condition had just vanished. He argued that it had gone dormant, merely pushed deeper into your subconscious by the hypnosis and would eventually return.

You probably weren’t supposed to be around for the unprofessional bickering taking place between medical professionals, but you weren’t even listening as they debated your future for you.

Thoughts of the piano from your dream had you yearning for release–for _freedom_. Freedom from the hell your own mind had conjured, and freedom from the hell it had gotten you thrown into. It was on your mind every moment of every day, creating a sense of foreboding as you wondered what it all meant. Sick and tired of wearing hospital issued clothes and finally delivered from the nightmares, you just wanted to go _home_.

A conflicting medical team was not conducive to that particular goal, so you decided not to make the indecision worse and kept the dark thoughts that had replaced the dreams to yourself. They didn’t worry you–the thoughts that would occasionally stab through the normalcy inside your head were under control in a way the dreams had never been. Instead of dragging you along for the violent ride, they rolled uncomfortable waves of pleasure down your body in a way that was easy to dismiss. _Just the medications filtering out,_ you told yourself, _when they’re finished and I’m home, this will all go away._

When deemed fully awake and cognizant of your surroundings, you’d been given the option to watch the videos of what you had become while under hypnosis. You declined, not wanting to see the monster you’d become.

You thought part of you might enjoy it the same way it had enjoyed listening to Dr. Cameron’s list of injuries, and you didn’t want to take the chance of stirring that part of you back up. You couldn’t stomach the thought of making it all more real than it already was.

Living through it once was enough, even if you didn’t remember.

“Are we going to discuss Dr. Cameron’s tactics while dealing with Y/N?” Dr Adams’ voice drifted, slowly breaking you out of your reverie.

“Not in front of his patient,” came the cool reply from Dr. Mara.

“ _Our_ patient. Y/N is _our_ patient and he went into that session entirely unprepared which led to disastrous results for all parties involved! It needs to be discussed and you’ve been avoiding this conversation for days.”

“I wouldn’t say _disastrous_ …”

“No?! How about incompetent then, hm?”

Dr. Mara’s eyes flicked up to the psychiatrist in mild disbelief.

“Incompetent?”

“Yes doctor, _incompetent_.  He should have ended the session the _moment_ Y/N began responding unconventionally. He refused to terminate because of the research, he said so himself in our meeting! It certainly seems incompetent, if not outright immoral and illegal, to put _information_ above patient safety.”

“If you’ll recall, it wasn’t the patient who’s safety ended up in question.” Her dark eyes narrowed slightly at you as she noticed you had started paying attention to the conversation.

“That is _far_ beyond the point I’m attempting to make here.” Dr. Adams snapped back.

“It doesn’t matter.” Heads snapped in your direction as you finally interjected the thickening tension of the room. Questioning glances made you continue. “It doesn’t matter because I don’t even remember it. Guys listen… I know you’re all big fancy doctors but If this is over, then I don’t care _why_ it’s over. Do all your research while I’m at home, comfy on my couch watching trash tv. You can call me if there’s some drastic breakthrough but I feel completely normal and I want to leave. Doctor Mara _said_ I could leave.”

“You _what_?”

You sighed internally at Dr. Adams’ outrage. Your dedicated psychiatrist had been appreciated in the beginning, but the furious glare he sent Dr. Mara made you think of how tired of his face you were. The doctors missed the darkening of your expression as they focused on one another.

 _Why the fuck can’t he let me go?_ The anger hidden in the mental statement flew under your radar as you found yourself hyper-focused on his clenched jaw.

Everything you had found comforting about him was suddenly repulsive. You wanted to run, far and fast. Instead, you shook off the feeling and made your expression neutral just in time for Dr. Mara to look at you.

“As the official head of your medical team yes, Y/N, I’ve decided you will be released to the care of your sister. Tomorrow, actually. We’ve already called her and she will be ready to pick you up.”

“What?! Her medications can’t be stopped that quickly! This is…”

“Stop. Your objections are noted, but your consent is not necessary,” the female doctor looked slyly at her colleague as she cut him off, her lips showing the barest hint of a satisfied smile, “Y/N is well again. She has shown remarkable recovery and I began weaning her off all medications the moment she woke up. It’s been a week, she is _fine_ , and she is ready to leave. Everything else can be discussed in our monthly meeting. I, for one, think coming to the end of her harrowing journey is to be commended and rewarded.”

Any skepticism you felt melted away as she locked her eyes with yours. She was serious, she was really letting you leave.

“She brutalized _multiple_ Alphas a week ago! You want to push her back into the real world?!” You flinched at his callous tone and didn’t voice the fact that he had a point. You needed to go back to normal. You needed to be back in your own space where you understood your place in the universe.

It was a fruitless fight for Dr. Adams. Dr. Mara had already made her decision and put it into motion, all you had to do was wait.

## __~*~__

The shot rang out from around the corner and brought the shifter down just as Sam expected it to. Dean looked collected as he stepped forward, but Sam jumped as two more sharp blasts from Dean’s gun reverberated through the room, bullets burying deep into the unmoving corpse.

“Dean,”

Three more unexpected shots echoed around the kitchen as Sam stared at his brother in shock.

 _What the fuck?_ he wondered, eyeing Dean warily from his spot on the floor.

## __

_That night Dean dreamt of the song. It lulled him into complacency as the Mark showcased all the nightmares he’d missed out on while being a demon._

_Emotions rattled around, insubstantial feelings brushing up against one another and melding into an overwhelming cacophony that threatened to swallow him whole under the morose but sweet notes._

_The Mark was hungry; it wanted to twist any sweet feelings lingering inside Dean and wring the life out of them to leave room for what it really wanted._

_As blood spattered his face and flesh ripped under his knife, Dean thought it might be working._

_A different dream shimmered in, leaving him with a man in all white holding his arms back while the other one charged at him with a baton. Blood smeared Dean’s sardonic grin as he went through the motions yet again. Every time he had the dream, both of his attackers were Alphas, and they had been threatening his Omega. He never got to see the part where that happened; he didn’t need to… He felt it._

_And his Alpha wouldn’t stand for it._

_He made their deaths different every time. As if in thanks, the Mark would reward him with a smell that was a strange mix of lemon, honeysuckle and something undeniably delicious._ Omega _._

_It would fill his senses, sending his instincts into overdrive and making his cock twitch as he watched the light drain from dying eyes._

_This time, he easily slipped the guy holding him to allow the second one to crash right in, taking them both to the ground. As they struggled to right themselves, Dean swooped down and took a throat in each hand, pinning them firmly and smacking their heads with a sickening crunch onto the cold tile floor._

_Their hands scratched and clawed at Dean’s wrists as he clenched his fists tighter, their eyes opening wider in terror. The Mark preferred it when he used the First Blade it seemed, because the smell didn’t come this time. Instead, the fucking song that wouldn’t leave him alone tinkled softly in the background like the world’s most macabre elevator music. He hadn’t gotten to kill both at once like this, however, so the satisfaction flowed up his arms in a warm, dark, current that curled up somewhere around his heart._

_Dean didn’t need a mirror to know that his eyes were black._

## __

He shot out of bed with a scream, the covers tangling in his legs, and Sam hurtling through his open doorway only a second later, gun drawn and ready for a fight. Dean was still dreaming about being the demon and reliving the fucked up movies in his head from when he was being cured.

“S’alright Sammy,” Dean ran a hand across his face, hoping to wipe away the exhaustion etched clearly on every feature before Sam noticed.

“It’s happening again?” The gun was lowered as Sam stood just outside the doorway, unsure about what to do with himself. Dean heaved air into his chest hoping to dissipate the pulsing heat coming from the mark.

“I…”

“It never stopped.” The defeat in his brother’s voice clenched guilt in Dean’s gut. “Dean, is this about the shifter?”

“No Sam, at this point it’s just a fact of life.”

Dean waited until he was fairly sure Sam was asleep before going to pour himself a drink.

## __~*~__

It was seven a.m. and you were nursing a cup of coffee in your own kitchen. The happiness radiating from you was infectious, as evidenced by Lane’s bouncy demeanour as she moved about the room cooking you pancakes.

Despite being a Beta, your sister had always seemed like she would have made the perfect Omega, something you’d always been secretly jealous of. She enjoyed serving her husband, cooking, cleaning and taking care of their children… Things you’d always wanted to enjoy but never taken to the way you felt you should have. She’d been more of a mother to you than your own, who’d drank herself into oblivion years before, but really she’d only done the bare minimum.

Lane had helped you understand your Omega. She had also understood why you felt the need to control it until you found _your_ Alpha, but in the end that was the extent of her nurturing attitude towards you. She’d left you to your own devices the second she realized you were strong enough to be on your own, and her reappearance in your life was due only to your coworker calling from the hospital when you’d collapsed on the job.

Working at a business center didn’t require much in the way of energy. All you had to do was sit at a desk and point people in the right direction when they got lost, but you’d collapsed from sheer exhaustion after weeks of nightmares not allowing you to sleep. Which led you to the present moment of only slight awkwardness.

“How ya doing this morning sweetie?” You smiled softly at her from your chair and shrugged.

“Not bad. Not bad at all.”

“Not bad, but not good either, huh? You’re not having nightmares again are you?” Her tone of motherly concern made you bite back a snicker.

“No.”  You lied smoothly, seeing no reason to tell her they’d started back up last night. “Just weird being home after spending so long in that place…”

“But they helped you there right?” She sounded so hopeful it was almost disgusting.

“Of course they did. I loved my team. They were so helpful that I’m out now and back to normal.” Another lie.

With a convinced nod and a smile Lane set a stack of pancakes in front of you before retrieving her own. You both ate in silence as you enjoyed your last morning together; she was going home later in the day. After giving her the rundown of your visit, minus the gory details, you had spent the days before just enjoying each other’s company as much as you could, but the time for bonding was coming to an end–she lived three hours away.

“So Y/N…Have you given any thought to your next heat?” The question, even though you knew she’d bring it up eventually, stopped you mid-swipe as you dried the last clean dish. Mostly it was because you hadn’t thought of it at all past remembering to take your suppressants. “Look, it’s understandable that you’d forget about it, but I have some vacation time saved up so if you need me here like last year…”

You smiled over your shoulder at her as you placed the dishes back into the cabinets. “Actually I haven’t, thanks for reminding me.” You sat on the edge of your chair when you made your way back to the table. “With everything going on I just… Yeah. Um…”

Lane watched the wheels in your head turn as you calculated the best timing. You may have liked to push the limits only giving yourself one heat a year, but you didn’t have a death wish. You debated on pushing it back a few more months to get back on your feet, but by then you’d be back at work and have to take more time off. Your bosses wouldn’t be happy with that at all, so you decided to play it safe.

“How long do you need to take off work in advance? Is two weeks from now ok?”

“Two weeks is perfect actually! And you have all of your, um,” you smirked as she cleared her throat awkwardly, obviously uncomfortable with the question you knew was coming. “Do you have all of your…supplies?” The smirk turned into full blown laughter as your sister’s cheeks flamed red without even speaking aloud the naughty things she knew you would need to ride out a heat.

“Yeah, I have…well most of everything. It’s been a year, so I’ll probably have to restock all the pheromones and my lubes…Expiration dates and all that.” The corner of her mouth quirked up as she looked at you, almost not believing you could be so strong and independent after an apparent mental breakdown.

“Do you need me to…?”

“Go with me?” You shook your head in amusement. “No I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Go home to your family.” The relief was visible as her body relaxed back into the chair.

The rest of the day was bittersweet, but not overly so. As Lane pulled out of the apartment complex you felt a sense of unease but shrugged it off.

It was good to be home.

## __

Lane pulled out her phone the second she turned out of your sight and dialed the number Dr. Mara had given her before releasing you. A perky receptionist answered on the second ring.

_“Doctor Cameron’s office, how may I direct your call?”_

## __~*~__

_The smells were outrageous here; a disgusting mix of alcohol, stale smoke, and sweaty bodies wafted it’s way down the street in both directions. A low pulse hummed from inside The Club as people milled around on the busy sidewalk. A few groups stuck close together, mostly mated pairs with a few scattered Betas in the mix. Some kind of date night, or a birthday perhaps. It was a night full of celebration and laughter._

_Then it happened._

_A small Omega with long brown hair and a clean neck stepped away from the pack, sealing her fate. Her tight dress shone in the bright lights as she waved goodbye happily. A slight sway cocked her hips as she turned on a high heel, teetering for a second before she walked away from people she would never see again._

_The darkness swallowed her up._  
__  
And it struck. __  


_Her frantic gurgles were never heard, and only a slight rustle from the bushes leading off into an empty parking lot signified the end of her life was near._

_It wasn’t quick for the pretty Omega. Her blood stained the pavement for hours before anyone found her, and when they did…_

_Three police officers vomited in the grass while forensics cataloged the multitudinous collection of cuts and deep, ragged holes. One injury stood out against the rest, disturbing even the hardiest of technicians as the Omega’s eyes stared vacantly into the starless night._

_Her eyelids were gone._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.

Dean rolled out of bed with a groan as he pulled himself back to the waking world. Shuffling his way into the kitchen he couldn’t help but be relieved at the lack of blood covering his hands and he allowed himself to fall into the routine of making coffee and breakfast to avoid thinking about how they had looked in the moments before he’d opened his eyes.

The dreams had been hellacious last night; some of the worst he’d experienced so far. The older Winchester had woken up clean, however, and not covered in the gore he kept expecting. Sam’s sleepy doe eyes and tousled hair greeted him from the doorway, no doubt drawn by the enticing aroma of bacon floating around the bunker now, and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Mornin’ Sammy!” His perky demeanor wasn’t all fake, he was genuinely happy to be home. Hell, he was genuinely happy to have a home. Fighting the darkness inside seemed to come easier when he focused on the things he was thankful for, and Dean was determined to do just that for as long as he could.

The boys ate in comfortable silence, the sipping of coffee and scraping of their forks were the only sounds heard over the low whir of the air conditioner. Sam set his fork down when he finished and rubbed his stomach gratefully, his eyebrow piquing as he realized Dean was tapping purposefully on the tabletop without really focusing on it.

The sound was familiar, but Sam couldn’t place it. He was pretty sure it wasn’t an old rock song like one would expect, and then Dean started humming in time with it around his mouthful of egg.  

 _Is that…?_ Sam was confused as the realization came to him. _Dean knows a hip-hop song?_ Sure, his brother would delve into some good old T-Swift on occasion, but that was a guilty pleasure he only allowed himself when no one was around. This was a strange development that Sam didn’t know what to do with.

“Alright,” the younger Winchester cleared his throat as Dean finished his last bite, “What’s the plan for the day?”

“Well, nothin’ on the radar far as I can tell so…” Dean looked pained as he said the next word, “research?”

## __~*~__

Your hands trailed slowly over the lid of your piano. The morning sunlight coming through the sheer curtains gleamed against the mahogany finish, warming your bones and helping you relax. The instrument wasn’t nearly as grand as the one from your dream, but here in reality you had needed one that fit inside an apartment.

As you sat on the cushioned bench you basked in the love that had been your escape for so long.

Your fingers danced gracefully over the keys before settling into an upbeat rendition of a song you had been fiddling with for some time before. Of course that had been before your episode.

The nightmares and dark thoughts faded into the background as music flew from your fingertips.

It was so easy to get lost in the world you created for yourself as you played–it had only ever been a hobby, but was it ever possible to learn to play an instrument without falling in love with it?

Everything fell away when you were in this position; the vibrations moving up through the pedals into your feet cut through the soft but satisfying squelch of flesh as it met bone blade over and over again, all worries about the heat unexpectedly bubbling under your skin were muted, and the black eyes that had momentarily flashed at you in the mirror that morning were replaced with black and white stars dancing in the night sky.

You hadn’t noticed how frantically you fingers were moving until a heavy knock against your ceiling pulled you out of the zone you’d fallen into, a final note fading into the air as you stopped to breathe.

The upstairs neighbor had decided your playing was too loud, apparently. You smiled a bit to yourself as you started up again, this time playing a softer song; the song that always seemed to calm you down.

Your _favorite_ song.

## __

“I love the smell of parchment in the morning,” Dean mumbled sarcastically as he turned yet another page. Sam dropped into the chair across from him.

“How much lore is even left? We’ve got nothing on the Mark?” Dean had started to answer when the song in his head started to raise in volume. It sounded almost as if it were in the room with him, and his sharp intake of breath had Sam alert and focused on him. The younger Alpha frowned as Dean’s scent wafted over, completely different than it had been earlier; sweeter.

“Dean? What’s wrong?” Dean shook his head in an effort to dispel the overwhelming noise. He could _feel_ the chords vibrating through him.

“I don’t know man…This song…” His blood started to simmer under the soft tutelage of the emotions suddenly coursing through him. It wasn’t violence this time–this was something different that he didn’t have words for.

“A song?” Sam’s face moulded into confusion as he watched his brother struggle with what was happening inside his body.

“Yeah,” Dean’s voice was gruff as he held onto the table like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

## __

By the middle of the song your body was on fire. Thick emotion clogged your throat as you inhaled the lemon essential oil you’d started warming before sitting down to play. It usually helped you relax after a stressful day.

It wasn’t working today. The rash on your arm was itching and burning again while every pulse of music pushed you into the things you’d avoided feeling for the past few months: Stress. Fear. Helplessness. The need to see your hands stained with blood. Tears were streaming unnoticed down your cheeks only to be smeared when they fell to the keys as your fingers worked them over.

## __

Sam watched as Dean tensed, his jaw clenching and working as he tried to fight the tide rolling into his body.

“Dean are you going into–”

“I don’t know,” Dean had barely noticed the heat marking his upcoming rut; it wasn’t supposed to happen for a few weeks, but here it was, suddenly dragging him along for the ride as the Mark burned.

“Is it the Mark?”

“I don’t know!” Dean snarled back, his restraint obvious as his fingers dug harder into the wood. Sam started as Dean’s eyes flashed yellow for the barest hint of a second.

“Ok um,” Sam tried not to inhale the stress Dean was putting off; he needed to stay level-headed if he wanted to help. “This song you’re hearing–is it the same one you were humming earlier?”

The question seemed to break Dean out of a daze even as sweat started to bead on his forehead.

“What?”

“The _song_ Dean, you were humming a song this morning. It’s called See You Again… How do you even know a song by Wiz Khalifa?”

Dean grunted a non-committal response because he didn’t have an answer. Sure, he’d heard the original version in passing, unable to avoid the tune considering it had played incessantly on every radio for months–but he wasn’t hearing the original.

Sam didn’t know that it was an instrumental playing on repeat in his brother’s head… Hell, Sammy didn’t know a lot of things, like the fact that the demon had picked up an electric keyboard just for the purpose of playing it despite detesting the feelings it had brought on.

The keyboard sat abandoned in the trunk of the Impala because Dean hadn’t wanted to look too closely into what he’d been up to as a demon. He had no idea why he chose not to tell Sam about the song that had both haunted and helped him, but it seemed now he didn’t have a choice.

## __

Instead of stopping when you reached the final note, you started playing again; this time, your voice joined in, thick and cracking as the chorus grated out of your throat.

## __

Dean closed his eyes as a soothing voice joined the music, momentarily quieting his boiling blood. Dean’s breathing steadied under Sam’s watchful gaze. The younger Winchester wasn’t sure he’d ever felt so useless. He watched Dean’s breathing regulate, and noticed with relief that his scent was stabilizing  as well.

“Dean?” Sam ventured cautiously. His brother’s eyes opened and looked calm despite the heat still raging through the Mark.

“Yeah Sammy. I’m alright…” The voice in his head was sending pangs of hunger straight to his groin, antagonizing the pulse of his early rut. “So uh, the song yeah…”

Sam’s eyebrows rose as he waited, well aware they were now on a time limit for the conversation.

“I’ve been hearing it since I got the Mark, but it’s _not_ the radio version.” He sounded slightly defensive as he ignored Sam’s reaction and continued, trying to get it out before he was completely knot-headed. “It was worse when I was a demon, clearer.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I got no idea, but now it’s different. I can feel it in my chest, Sammy. It’s playing in my head right now and I’m pretty sure it’s the reason I’m going into rut.”

“Why the hell is the Mark making you hear a hip hop song Dean? Is the song hurting you? Making the Mark worse? How the hell is it pushing you into a rut? None of this makes any sense!” He felt bad for pushing so many questions out at once, but Sam couldn’t help it.

“You think I don’t know that? God…” The older hunter closed his eyes and tried to quell the raging heat that was building up again. “It doesn’t hurt me… It, uh…It actually helps most of the time. The demon… Or me, when I was a demon, I guess, hated it because it helped me keep the Mark in check.” Dean grimaced as he felt the temperature of his body jump a few degrees higher.

“Well pushing you into a rut doesn’t seem very helpful, I’m gonna call Cass.” Dean could only nod stiffly as his brother left the room.

## __

You had to rip your hands away from the keys after the fifth repetition. Throwing yourself exhaustedly to the floor, you tried to calm your racing heart and get control over the clenching in your gut. The tears slowed before stopping, and collecting yourself became easier once you were able to separate yourself from the intensity.

Taking several large breaths, you basked in the sweet smell of lemons and home, letting it wash the pain away properly. The heat in your belly abated just enough to leave you acutely aware of the rash on your arm and your cramping hands.

Motionless on the floor, you let the itching throb absorb into your muscles. Every hair was standing on end as sweat dried from your skin. Playing such a simple song shouldn’t have drained you to the point of weakness you currently felt, much less pushed you into such a frenzied state.

You’d never felt like this before, even in your most medicated moments from the facility. The room around you seemed surreal, brighter than it should be and with sharper shadows. Everything was just a little bit _off.._.

Rolling to your side and standing was a simple task, but it took more energy than you’d been expecting. It took a second to orient yourself as your view shifted and the pulsing heat from your arm drew your attention again.

The rash had taken on a vague shape under under the slight scarring from where it had healed from your incessant attention. _Time for some benadryl,_ you thought with dark amusement. Instead of scratching at it like you would have before, you traced the red shape with your fingertip. The rash throbbed intensely under your touch, making you yelp in shock. You watched in worry as it defined into a welt.

## __

“Ahh! Shit…” Dean jumped as pain behind the Mark bit sharply under his skin. It felt like he’d been shocked.

“Dean?!” Sam’s frantic call echoed from the hallway where he was stationed to keep close but still out of his brother’s sight. Despite the fact that Sam’s inner Alpha was balking against Dean’s rut in a bad way, he refused to leave Dean alone. Dean was far from pleasant during his ruts, especially since he’d taken on the Mark, but Sam couldn’t bring himself to walk out the door.

“Yeah Sammy, m’fine.” Dean glared down at the burden on his arm, silently cursing Metatron for ever bringing it up.

## __

 _Well shit, I made it worse! Everyone knows you’re not supposed to touch rashes, God DAMMIT Y/N way to go…_ Your head snapped up confusedly as a wave of scent smacked you in the face. It was unmistakably Alpha, and your knees nearly buckled as the smell of whiskey and leather went straight to your core before vanishing just as quickly as it had come. In its wake a sweet taste was left on your tongue.

_Is that…fucking apple pie?!_

You glanced around your apartment again, trying to remember the last time you’d even eaten pie and wiping residual tear streaks from your face. You debated on whether to call your sister.

Weighing your options was easy in the end–you _had_ to call her. Being alone and unprepared for a heat was probably the stupidest thing you could ever do to yourself, and that was without the weirdness intensifying every second.

Emotional exhaustion made you sluggish as you searched for your phone.

 _Maybe after I text Lane I’ll take that emergency triple dose, take a nap, and when I wake up I’ll be alright…_ You almost had yourself convinced. After a few moments of rummaging around your counters you found your phone sitting in a puddle of blood by the sink.

You snatched it up in a panic, your fingers buzzing in appreciation as the thick liquid coated them. Your eyes squeezed shut as you backed into the fridge and slid down it to the floor. 

Focusing on your breathing like Dr. Adams had instructed, you waited a few moments before standing again and opening your eyes. You sagged against the counter in relief.

The blood was gone, but your fingers were still buzzing. You didn’t notice the crusted red stains on your cuticles as you dialed Lane, figuring it would take less energy than typing out the mess you were in.

You admired the foggy quality of your living room as you listened to the ringing in your ear. Standing was taking too much energy and your body felt too hot. You put the phone on speaker and set it down to start stripping, Lane answering just as you got your pants off.

 _“Y/N!”_ She sounded surprised to hear from you so soon; it had only been a couple of days since she left. “Is everything alright?”

“No, actually.” You picked your phone up and moved it with you to the couch as you plopped down. “I think my heat is coming early.”

 _“You said you’ve been taking your suppressants, right?”_ You balked at the accusatory tone but let it slide.

“I have been, I don’t know what’s going on but I’m so hot, and I still haven’t been to the store…”

_“Oh god Y/N this is bad, I’m three hours away! Have the cramps started yet?”_

“No, I’m gonna take that emergency triple dose that one doctor gave me before it gets too bad, I just wanted to call you first.”

_“Do you think they’re gonna work? I could come down today if…”_

“No, no, no, I think it’s gonna work its just… I dunno, thought I should call you just in case.”

 _“Well…”_ Lane sounded so worried you rolled your eyes thinking about how she probably didn’t actually care. _“Are you sure? Because my vacation time got approved. It’s only a week away, they probably wouldn’t mind moving it up a little and you know my hubby can take the boys.”_ You shuddered at her use of the word ‘hubby.’  Her husband was a pretentious asshole as far as you were concerned, and you really didn’t think the man deserved such a sappy word applied to him.

“Nah… Well, I dunno… Let me take this medicine and then a nap. If I’m feeling better when I wake up I’ll go to the store and get what I need. I guess I just wanted to let you know what was going on.”  

## __~*~__

Dean stalked around the bunker grumpily, his rut in full swing and uncontrolled enough that there was no way he would trust himself with a woman. Sam had already left the bunker because with Dean’s worsening condition, any scent could push him over the edge.

Dean detested needing the bag of supplies he was currently searching for, but he accepted that it had to be done.

## __

A hundred miles away from Dean, you stepped out of the shower that adjoined your bedroom. You dried off and tossed the damp towel onto your bed. The cramps still hadn’t come thanks to the medication, and you were going to sleep before they started.

## __

Dean’s prize stank of Omega spray as he carried it back to his room with as much calm as he could muster. Normally, anything smelling remotely like an Omega would have sent him into overdrive with the need to stick his knot into whatever was producing it, but instead his stomach was turning.

 _Maybe the sprays’ gone bad,_ he thought grimly as he emptied the bag onto his bed. He desperately hoped he was wrong. He checked the dates before grabbing what he needed and sweeping the rest impatiently to the floor.

## __

A cool breeze from the ceiling fan brushed over your steaming skin as you spread out, still naked, on the towel. The chilly air aided the extra doses of medication pumping through your system, giving you a few moments of peace, and the opportunity to sleep.

## __

Dean passed out after forcing himself to cum through the frustration, his knot still buried in a silicone toy that hadn’t come close to satiating his need, and the song quietly playing in his head.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.

_“Alpha,” Y/N whined softly, earning a lusty hiss of breath from the Alpha pressed against her._

_He felt more animal than man as he pinned her to the wall and rutted his naked body against hers. She couldn’t see, the blindfold covering half of her face made sure of that, but all of her other senses were on high alert._

_The sound of labored breathing and the air conditioner rattled in her ears. Sex and a scent that was overwhelmingly him filled her nose with every inhale. The metallic tang of blood was so thick in the air she could taste it._

_None of those things mattered, however. Not when she could feel the unbridled Alpha rippling under his skin just begging to be set free. Every spike in his emotions radiated from her chest to her toes, setting her nerves on fire as her body picked up on every nuance of his._

_Dean’s fingers felt electrified as he trailed them up the smooth skin of her arm while the other held her hip. Y/N’s body shuddered when his calloused hand reached the hollow of her collarbone, pulling a growl from the barely contained Alpha._

_To Dean, Y/N felt like silk and tasted like the sweetest pie. He wanted to lose himself inside her and never find his way back.  
_

_His Alpha was already chanting_ BiteClaimBreedMineMine **Mine.**

_In his dark heart Dean could feel the rightness of it–she felt like home._

_Finally, his fingers reached their prize. He gripped her neck possessively, thumb pushing roughly at her jawbone until her head was against the wall and tilted just the way he wanted._

_Her throat was smooth, open and ready;  a blank canvas for him to decorate as he pleased._

_Just the way an Omega should be for her Alpha._

_Y/N whimpered, drowning in the energy that hummed between them, helpless against the onslaught of pheromones as they turned her into putty in his hands. She was desperate to feel more of him. Rocking against his leg like she was, no matter how blissful it felt, wasn’t enough. Her Omega needed him inside, filling her up as his teeth broke the skin to mark her as his._

_He was the one she’d been waiting for._ Her _Alpha. Her perfect mate. She could feel it in the way his body sang to hers, and in the way every cell within her body vibrated in jubilant response.  
_

_She pressed forward in a haze, her soft flesh meeting rock hard muscle as sweat and blood slicked every movement between them. Her face buried into his neck, scenting the carnal aroma he was putting off—it was intoxicating, making her dizzy with lust. Animalistic mewls escaped her throat as she kitten-licked the salty sweat from his skin, admiring the other musky flavors that mingled in without thinking too much about identifying them. His fingers tensed on her throat at the feel of her wet tongue lapping so greedily at him, but he never stopped the torturous grinding of his bare thigh against her core._

_“Fuck, Omega, gonna make you feel so good…” he growled, the rough timbre of his voice almost shocking her out of the daze she was in. The primal sound sparked recognition and her eyes snapped open under the blindfold._

Lean Mean Dean _, the familiar words drifted from her subconscious, bringing with them confusion and a sinful clenching in her gut._ That’s his name, _she realized with wonder as the sounds vibrated through her chest like they had before._

_The words were pushed to the back of her mind as his grip on her hip hardened painfully, urging her to move faster. She grunted wantonly, grinding with him and pressing somehow closer, seeking out the heat in his skin that was a perfect match for hers. Y/N’s hand reached around to anchor at his lower back, using him to steady herself as they moved together at an increasingly frantic pace._

Son of a bitch, _Dean thought wildly as he watched her body writhe. The feel of her soft curves against him boiled his blood hotter than he’d ever thought possible._

_The blindfold covered her face so that he couldn’t get a good look at his Omega._

_He wanted to see her,_ all _of her, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. His muscles were screaming from holding the position for so long, but he refused to look away. He was burning the image into his mind so he could never forget how perfect she looked in that moment._

_His cock throbbed painfully as he imagined how it would feel to finally sink his teeth into her flesh. Dean inhaled deeply, drowning in the musky scent of her arousal._

_His Alpha instincts and the demon were fighting to overpower the man. They wanted to mark her_ now _. Claim her violently as his cock split her Omega pussy open. Rejoice at the beautiful cries of pain that would spill from her mouth into the pillow the demon wanted to suffocate her with._

_“Gonna knot you Omega,” the Winchester almost lost it when her head fell back and unleashed a filthy gasp in response. Her hips rolled against him faster as a gush of slick seeped from her slit onto his thigh in anticipation of his promise._

_Y/N’s nails clenched deep crescents into his thick bicep and lower back as their soaked bodies worked toward a slow orgasm. The feeling of her leg brushing against his weeping cock had the urgency to feel her clench around him crackling through his chest._

_His fingers were leaving bruises where they sunk into her skin, but he wasn’t being nearly as rough as he wanted to–he had to hold back. He wanted to protect her from the monsters within._

_“So slick for me, baby,” he leaned forward and whispered into her ear, nipping at the lobe. “Is this all mine?“ She muttered something incoherent in response, too lost in the feelings his body was dragging from hers. "You gonna cum for me sweetheart? Gotta cum before I knot you.”_

_He realized suddenly that he needed her release almost as much as she did. He needed that permission to let his Alpha free. He was dying to feel her body contract and lose control for him. Eyes still closed, he buried his head into her neck and sucked the spot that would mark her as his._

_Even through the haze she didn’t need her eyes to know there was a body on the floor next to them; she could feel the blood slicking against her toes as they brushed the tile floor.  
_

_It should have been revolting, but it only intensified the lust radiating from Dean’s mouth on her neck._

_Dean slid his hand from her neck to her ribcage, his nails raking lines through the skin until he reached her clit._

_“Oh God!” She wailed as his fingers strummed at the swollen bundle of nerves._

_His body stiffened at the words and his hand left her hip. She barely had time to miss his touch before his fingers were twisting tightly into her hair. Dean used the leverage to yank her head back as far as he could get it._

_His growl was feral against her ear as he stopped the blissful motion of his fingers and pinched her clit,_ hard _._

_“Ain’t no fucking God here, Omega. Just me and my knot,”_

_Her yelp of pleasure-pain made the demon fight harder against Dean’s restraint._

_It was hungry for more of those sounds._

_Dean pulled Y/N up to meet his mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue dominating every crevice as she melted under his ministrations._

_“Yes Alpha,” she panted compliantly as he broke away, “Only you. You and your knot. Fuck, I need it. Please!”_

_“That’s right baby. You_ do _. But now you’re gonna have to wait to cum till I say.”_

_Y/N felt the tension in his muscles shift and whined unhappily as the friction, and her orgasm, suddenly pulled away.  
_

_“No!” The dragged out sound was weak with want as he brought her quickly from the wall to the bed._

_“What did you just say to me?” The danger was there in the low rumble of his voice, but she ignored it, too blinded by the heat boiling inside her skin and the need to cum._

_“Alpha please, need you…”_

_She was dropped unceremoniously onto the mattress before she could finish. Y/N barely caught herself before a hard slap went searing through her asscheek, a loud ‘clap’ echoing throughout the room._

_“Sorry sir,” she squealed, earning a satisfied rumble from deep in his chest._

_Another streak of desire pinged straight through her core as she flipped to her back, the pleasure of the sting ricocheting inside her already clenching gut._

_Y/N was panting, reaching out into the dark emptiness above her in search of him. “I need…”_

_“Don’t tell me what you need_ Omega _,” he snarled, “I already know.”_

_Her body was flipped before she could react, stomach and nipples tensing deliciously as they came into contact with the rough comforter._

_“Present.” He snapped, grabbing her hips when she didn’t comply quickly enough._

_Dean allowed the demon enough control to manhandle her into position before reigning it in. His hand softly followed the length her spine as her lower back molded into the perfect curve. He left a trail of prickles and goosebumps where their skin met._

_He continued the teasing journey down her body as the hard planes of her back gave way to the soft mound of her ass. His fingers circled feather-light over the puckered flesh of the first hole he came across._

_"Son of a bitch, sweetheart,”_

_Her needy whine went ignored as his fingers found their ultimate goal, the slick soaked folds of her perfectly soaked pussy. He slid two fingers in without preamble, searching for and finding the textured patch that had a direct line to her clit as if he’d done it a million times before._

_Her bones turned to jelly as he started a rough pace. He stoked the fire inside of her as he pumped his fingers, attempting to open her wide enough to accommodate his impressive length while his thumb stroked her clit._

_“Now’s your chance Omega, cum for me.” A choked sound escaped Y/N’s throat as Dean worked her closer, finally igniting the fire in her abdomen exactly right. He reveled in the clench and release of her muscles around his fingers as she started shaking._

_“Oh-”_

_“If you say ‘God’ again you’re gonna regret it.” His voice was deeper, the change in tone exactly what she needed to push her over the edge. The world splintered around her as noises she’d never made before rang in his ears. The climax had her hips pushing desperately back against his hand while her body trembled._

_Dean never stopped moving his thumb over her clit even as she spasmed around his fingers. Tears of completion streamed down her cheeks as she tried to catch her breath through the over-stimulation. When he removed his fingers, the lewd smacking sounds of his lips sucking at her slick had her clenching around nothing again._

_“Alpha,” her voice grated in the silence of the room. The weak, satisfied, sound of it pleased the darker sides of him more than a scream ever could._

_The bliss he felt was interrupted when he took full notice of the crumpled body on the floor. His cock gave a macabre twitch of delight as the demon took back just a little more control._

_“You ready for this Alpha cock, Omega?” Y/N only grunted and pushed back in reply as Dean dragged his cock through the mess her orgasm had left. Her breath hitched as he finally popped the mushroomed head through the still-clenching opening of her pussy. “Oh fuck,” he hissed as he sank into her warm body.  
_

_Dean held the monsters inside back long enough to enjoy the feeling, but then her hips were impatiently rolling again, impaling her a few inches further onto his thick length. His nails dug deep enough to draw blood as his shaking hands clung to her hips._

_“Gonna kill me ‘mega.” He pulled out, leaving just the head of his cock inside before surging forward into her slick soaked channel._

_White sparks replaced the darkness as he pulled out again, only to thrust forward instantly. Brutally. Burying himself completely inside her willing heat and rutting deeper when his hips made skin contact._

_The thick knot at the base of his cock swelled, pulling a low whine from Y/N as it nestled firmly against her opening. Dean’s body weight dropped across her back, held up by strong arms that framed her body as he continued to rut into her._

_He was teasing her as much as himself in this position, his control barely a string of sanity he clung to._

_Starting a slow thrust, he let her feel his balls sway against her fingers as they worked her clit. His head buried into her neck again, pumping in and put of her as he scented and roughly nipped his spot._ _  
_

_The spot he would Claim._

_The spot that would unite their souls and make her his for eternity._

_On a whim, Dean snatched the blindfold from her face and tossed it. The demon inside wanted her to see the darkness he would be filling her with. Y/N’s eyes closed against the dimly lit room. She knew what was there, what he wanted her to look at._

_Part of her wanted to see the mess the two of them had made of the body on the floor. The other part just wanted to cum with him inside of her._

_“Open your eyes.” The command from her Alpha was undeniable, and Y/N complied, taking in the bloody sight as his hips stopped teasing and began to thrust punishingly. “See what we did, 'Mega? You ready for more?”_

_Y/N’s eyes rolled back into her head in pleasure as gibberish flew from her lips._

_“Fuck, ‘Mega… feel so good.” His hand replaced hers, stroking furious circles over her clit while he pounded her into oblivion. “Taste so good. Smell_ so _fucking good.” His dirty words were fading as blackness began to close in on her._

_“Mark me Alpha, please!” She cried desperately, fighting to stay as she suddenly realized she was in a dream._

_A dream she was waking up from._

_He grabbed her arms and hauled her body up against his. The new angle had her crying out as his teeth teased into the skin of her throat. Large arms circled her ribs and crossed around her chest, holding her tightly to him as he worked his cock at a furious pace. His head lowered into the hollow of her neck and bit softly, teasing her again with his intentions. Her hand wrapped behind his neck and curled into his short hair, holding on for dear life as she quivered around him._

_She needed his mark as much as she needed release, and he would give it all to her if only she could stay just a bit longer…_

_So close…_

_“…Mark you.” She heard him snarl just before her body clenched around him.  
_

_As his teeth finally descended, so did the darkness and she cried out…_

##  ____

“Dean!”

His name unknowingly fell from your lips as you came awake, hand buried at the apex of your clenching thighs.

Wave after wave of intense pleasure rolled through your body as the strongest orgasm you’d ever had in your life crested, then shattered the world around you.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.

“Y/N!”

Dean’s waking grunt was less theatrical than the final cry he had torn from Y/N as she’d clenched and pulsed around him, but he still pumped a thick, satisfying, load into the toy nestled around his knot. It mixed in with his mess from the night before and dribbled out onto his pelvis.

The bed was drenched from how profusely his bare body was sweating, the room muggy like he was in a swamp instead of Kansas. The thin sheet he’d used to cover himself tangled around and stuck firmly to his legs.

Dean’s heart was racing in his chest as the phantom feel of her skin tingled across his palms. Even awake it was setting him alight with feelings unlike anything he’d ever experienced. His tongue traced across his lips, the sweet taste of her making his drained length twitch to life again.

He groaned as he rolled over, pulling at the toy until it released over his swollen knot with wet ‘pop’. Dean could feel that his body was still running hot, but it seemed that dreaming about her had sated the beast inside enough for him to think coherently once again.

He decided that a cold shower should be his first course of action, but couldn’t convince his body to move and disturb the dreamy state it was in. Distantly, he realized his muscles were aching like he’d just run a marathon.

Or done ecstasy.

His mind was still floating on the last vestiges of his orgasm, and every brush of the sheets reminded him of exactly how close she’d been…and how far away she was now.

Especially considering she wasn’t even real.

He never realized he was _actually_ sweating the smell of lemons and honeysuckle instead of the usual rut musk Sam always complained about. He chalked the faint scent up to the lingering dream.

Dean flexed his right hand, tentatively testing the feel of his muscles under the Mark. He was amazed, and confused, to find that it was sated. There was no prickling or burning heat coming from it, just the same dull awareness he always had.

 _Some fucking dream,_ Dean thought groggily, his mind replaying the images of her beautiful body writhing against him in pleasure.

Dean had noticed at the last second he was dreaming, but before that moment he had been living in a different world. It had all felt so real.

His eyes fell closed again as he tried to see her face. The tip of his tongue knew her name, but wouldn’t produce it no matter how hard he thought. In fact, it seemed to fall further away the more he tried. His scalp burned where she had wrapped her delicate but insanely strong fingers into his hair, right before she came around him and he had…

_Oh fuck_

In a haze of sudden confusion and worry, Dean launched himself from the bed. The sheet tangled around his feet almost brought him down, but he angrily shook it off and ran to the small mirror above his sink. In it, he checked around his mouth for blood and the rest of him for scratches.

Anything to tell him he hadn’t just marked an Omega.

That he hadn’t just killed someone for the sake of getting the two of them off.

He found nothing, and he gave his bed a quick glance to make sure he hadn’t somehow gotten access to a woman in his rut induced haze. With relief he saw that no, there was no Omega hidden under the covers. There was no one home but him.

So why could he could feel it? Why could he feel _her_? A woman he’d never met. A woman he’d never touched. A woman whose face he’d never even seen. A woman that couldn’t possibly be real. And yet…

The pulse of energy was radiating through him everywhere she had been, familiar in that he somehow understood now that she was the source of the song in his head.

She had been all along.

Dean moved swiftly once he decided to, shoving his way from the sink and making his way to the shower unashamedly naked. The thought that this was the weirdest thing to ever happen to him crossed his mind, but he shook it off. He figured he would feel better after a shower–more alert and able to decipher what the hell was going on in his head.

The high he was riding didn’t abate when he stepped under the freezing spray. 

Dean faced the shower head, letting the water splatter against his face in an effort to clear the fog of his rut. Normally his dreams faded within a few minutes of waking up, but this one was different.

This one was burned behind his eyes and imprinted into his skin. It wasn’t going away.

He remembered every pulse of her carotid under his fingers, every press of her lips against his, and every slide of her folds as she’d slicked across his thigh looking like a fucking Goddess. He was desperately hard as he visualized her covered in blood, her arms reaching out for him. For her Alpha.

The sting of her fingernails clinging onto him like she’d die if she let go, the whines he pulled out of her… Fuck, he wanted more of that. _Needed_ it. His thick fingers wrapped his length, stroking twice and squeezing lightly when he reached the base. Dean used his finger tips of his other hand to massage the sensitive area under his knot where his balls met the shaft, moaning as he used this new energy humming through him in the most productive way he knew how.

God she had felt so good, all hot flesh and a tight grip that satisfied all parts of him.

Like she was made for him.

Dean grunted, his breath speeding up in time with his pumping fist and fingers before stuttering to a stop as he came.

## __~*~__

“Y/N!” Lane burst through your front door, frantically calling your name as she searched the livingroom and kitchen. You heard the heavy footfalls thudding through your apartment before they moved in the direction of your bedroom.

Groggily, you pulled the comforter from over your head and looked up at the fuzzy but panicked body now hovering in your doorway.

“Lane, what the hell?” You grumbled unhappily, the happy buzz of another orgasm draining away as her energy infected your space.

“Y/N thank God! I’ve been trying to call you since yesterday! Why the hell aren’t you answering your phone? And what’s that smell?” Her nose wrinkled as she looked judgmentally around your slightly messy bedroom.

“Uh, maybe ‘cuz I’ve been sleeping?” You ignored her last question and tried to snuggle back down into the warm cocoon you had created. It, somehow, still smelled like him. After waking up in the middle of an epic orgasm you hadn’t been able to get his scent out of your nose. Not that you tried. Since then, you had dozed in and out of sleep, alternating dreams full of blood and quick snippets of the first dream. The _best_ dream.

Lane tugged the blanket back down as vivid memories flashed through your mind. His skin, his voice, those _hands_ … You pushed the images away before Lane could notice your sudden arousal and the accompanying blush, but it didn’t take long for you to realize she wouldn’t have noticed anyways. She was far too worked up.

“For like 18 hours? What the hell woman?! It’s three in the afternoon and I’ve been scared shitless! Especially with what’s been going on and your heat coming early…”

You grunted as you sat up, your body stiff from lying down so long. You wiped the sleep from your eyes with a yawn and pulled the blanket closer to your naked body as you interrupted her rant.

“I got it simmered down for now but what do you mean ‘what’s been going on’?”

“Haven’t you been watching the news the past couple days?” Your blank stare told her you had not.

“The news? You know I don’t watch that crap it’s all…”

“Oh my god Y/N stop with the conspiracies this is _important_! Unmated Omegas have been going missing around here all week and when they find them…” She trailed off, suddenly looking uncertain as her gaze moved to the floor.

“When they find them, _what_ , Lane? You know I hate it when you do that.” You didn’t mean to sound so grumpy, but your body was simmering and having an orgasmic dream interrupted by the frantic sound of your sister clomping her way through the house made your temper short. You preferred a slow re-entry to the waking world even on the best of days.

“They’re all…cut up. Y/N there’s a serial killer attacking people just like you and if I hadn’t told you just now you wouldn’t even know. You have got to start keeping up with what’s going on around you, you’re not the only person in the universe you know.”

You frowned and sank lower in your bed, seeking safety in your own body heat and ignoring the slight damp that signified you had been sweating.

“I know that… I just hate the news, it’s always so depressing.”

“Yeah well, knowing that depressing stuff could save your life. You’re lucky you have me.”

You snorted and patted her shoulder.

“Yeah you’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll turn my volume up so my phone will wake me up when you call next time. Now I should probably get dressed if you’re planning on sticking around.”

“I am sticking around, but… Y/N I don’t want there to _be_ a next time.” She watched warily as you pulled your robe on.

“What do you mean?” You lazily pulled a comb through your hair before turning to face your sister’s serious expression.

“I mean… I think you should come live with us.” Lane watched as your eyebrows scrunched in confusion before you burst out laughing.

“Yeah _ok_ , I’m gonna load all my shit and go be pack with the Brady Bunch. Pfft.” You rolled your eyes and headed to the kitchen. “No offense but _fuck_ that.”

## __

Lane hung back near the door of the discreet shop while you perused a shelf of Alpha pheromone sprays.  Her eyes were glued to her phone so she didn’t have to glance around awkwardly at all the Alpha knot toys on her left, or the shelf of porn to her right.

Her agreement to come with you had been hesitant. You almost put it off due to her reluctance, but in the end you decided it was the smart thing to do. Thankfully, you didn’t think you’d be needing the supplies anytime soon. The medication had your temperature regulated and hormones in check, but you weren’t taking any chances. You were going to force your body to stay on schedule if it was the last thing you did while still being prepared in case it didn’t cooperate.

While surrounded by the sights and smells of the Omega-oriented sex shop it was hard not to mentally roll through the mind-blowing dream sex you’d had with…

 _What was his name?_ You frowned, swearing you just remembered it a second ago.

Remembering the carnage that had been on the floor of the room made you cringe in disgust at yourself, but your core clenched as if it was a pleasant memory. Unconsciously, you rested your hand over the unbroken skin of your neck where the dream Alpha’s teeth had started to sink in. There was a slight hum under your fingers, but you knew there was nothing there because you’d checked before leaving the house.

As you grabbed a particularly musky smelling bottle and tossed it into the basket with your other supplies, you glanced up to find Lane typing away furiously on her phone.

 _Stupid bitch._ The thought came unbidden, shocking you with it’s ferocity. You hissed quietly as the mark on your arm pulsed, sending a wave of itchy prickles to the skin around it.

You suddenly began to think about all the things she had never done for you. Every little slight you’d ever suffered from her seemed amplified, _unforgivable_ , as you watched her avoid looking around at the things inside the store as if she was disgusted to be there.  

 _What the fuck?_ You tried to shake off the sudden rage by turning away and focusing on your shopping. It was different from anything you’d ever felt as the ghost of his hands traveled up your arm and caressed it’s way across the front of your chest. Closing your eyes tightly, you fought the sudden assault on your senses.

Lane glanced up from her texts, observing your tight shoulders and ragged breath as you moved to another shelf. From the side, she could see the frustrated expression you wore and frowned. You were acting so different since coming home. Your formerly bubbly demeanor had slipped into sarcasm and a sass she never would have expected you to be capable of.

Sure, you had always been independent, but you were bordering on mean these days. She was trying to figure this new you out, and worrying about her family at home at the same time was weighing heavily on her conscience. She couldn’t do it all when the two things she loved most, her sister and her family, were so far removed from one another.

Lane hoped she was making the right decision, and started typing again.

## __~*~__

“This is why you called us? _This_ is your emergency?!” Dean gestured angrily as his eyes bore an extra set of holes into his angelic friend’s head. Castiel looked as exasperated as he had sounded on the phone; Claire had stolen his wallet and apparently some of his sanity, since he’d been fool enough to ask Dean to leave the bunker during a rut. 

But he needed help, and the Winchesters were his family.

Castiel could sense a vague darkness clouding Dean’s mind that had nothing to do with his rut. He tried to see its shape with his own mind, but he couldn’t. When he reached out, he only heard the faint tinkling of a piano and saw the writhing darkness of the Mark. He hadn’t known Dean liked piano music, but the hunter had been different since taking on the mark so the angel chose not to comment.

Castiel wanted to push deeper, if only to make sure Dean was ok, but not only was that a violation of trust, he also had Claire to worry about.

“Yes!”

“ _No_! An emergency is a dead body, or–or a wigged out angel or the Apocalypse: take 3!” Dean heaved a deep breath as his brother and Cas soaked in his rant. “Some chick bolting on you? That’s not an emergency. That’s…Every friday night for Sam.”

Leave it to Dean to find a way to crack a joke through the frustration he was feeling, but Sam was glad to see it even as he pretended to be offended, offering up a weak

“Dude…”

“She’s not some chick” Cas replied, affronted at Dean’s attitude, “ I’m responsible for her!”

“Since when?!” Dean asked incredulously. “You met her _once_ –how many years ago?”

“Look Cas, even if we do find Claire, then what? She rolled you, and then she ran, okay?” Sam added in, attempting to calm the situation before it escalated.

“I understand. But I need to know that Claire is safe…And I need your help.”

## __

Dean had been avoiding the worst of his dreams by losing himself in the best. The bodies that had haunted him all day had been pushed behind the screen in his mind and replaced by his Omega.

He knew she wasn’t real, but that’s how he had been thinking of her since waking… She was his Omega now, and she kept the demons in his head at bay. 

In this moment however, the song was playing quietly because she was gone. The Mark on his arm was screaming in satisfaction as his knife cut through another stomach and his fist pounded flesh.

A shot rang out, a bone snapping as he snagged the arm holding the gun. He plunged the blade as deep as it would go into the man and twisted.

The bodies littered the floor before he knew what was happening. The darkness had taken over, and it was having _fun_.  It reveled in the violence. In the blood now splattered across his face and covering the room. Claire’s attackers were dead. Cas should be happy.

He stood in the middle of the carnage as he slowly came back to himself, the reality of what he’d done bringing him to his knees in the middle of the floor.

He’d known what he was going to do before he did it. _Known_ he was going to cave in to the hunger that pulsed from his arm and raced into his heart. He had seen it and chosen to live in purposeful ignorance of his own urges.

As Sam dropped to his knees in front of Dean and begged him to say it was necessary, that he’d _had_ to, Dean couldn’t lie anymore.

Not to himself. Not to Sam.  

“I…I didn’t mean to…”

Sam’s heart broke as he cupped his brother’s face and Claire let out a terrified scream from behind them.

“I’m sorry Sam… I think I need her… I need Y/N.” The tears welled up in Dean’s eyes as the front door slammed shut, leaving Sam staring helplessly at him.

“Who?”

## __~*~__

“Lean Mean Dean…”

“What?” Lane looked at you in confusion from her place at the kitchen sink.

“Huh? Oh, sorry,” you shook your head. “I dunno, I heard it somewhere and it won’t leave my head. It’s fun to say, it rhymes.” You shrugged and went back to eating the dinner she had prepared. Her eyebrow rose but she didn’t comment further as she finished your dishes.

The day had been uneventful after coming home from the store. Your unprecedented rage had simmered away, leaving only the itch in your arm as you had played a few songs on the piano for Lane. You pointedly avoided playing the one that had sent you into a frenzy last time.

It had taken her a while to be convinced that your heat really was under control, but in the end she seemed to accept it. Lane was on her way out the door when she suddenly turned and asked…

“Do you even _know_ anyone named Dean?”  

__~*~__

_Mmmmmm…._

_Blood slicked the knife and puddled onto the pavement below another young Omega’s body._

_She was victim number seven._

_Light glinted off the blade as another cut sliced across the shivering skin of her naked rib-cage._

_Her whimpers fell on deaf ears._

_“Shhhh, little one. We’re almost done.” The cruel voice was soft, almost melodic, contrasting sharply with the prickling slices covering the Omega’s body._

_The pain was leaving, and the girl on the ground had seen enough crime shows to know what that meant. The realization that death was so close only made her shaking worse, and the last cut across her abdomen was ragged as a result._

_Deft hands neatly sliced her eyelids after waiting for the light behind the baby blues to die._

_The monster wasn’t_ cruel _, after all._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.

A headache that felt like ten jackhammers shattering your brain had been going for days.  Partially, it was from the stifling aroma of the lemon scented all purpose cleaner you were dousing every inch of your apartment with, but mostly it was the lack of sleep.

A particularly poignant dream about slaughtering a house full of men, almost a week ago, had taken that luxury from you. Through six months of nightmares and a near psychotic episode you’d always been able to at least _fall_ asleep, even if you only stayed that way for a short time.

This inability to rest was a new and entirely unwelcome development. 

Just when you thought your body was under control, your mind decided to take a step closer to the ledge. Keeping busy was the only coping mechanism you’d ever had, and not being able to return to work where the mind-numbing tedium could distract you was taking its toll.

After a thirty minute phone conversation with your boss, you were now sure they were going to fire you the first chance they got. That event had led you to this one: compulsively deep cleaning every inch of your home in an effort to get rid of a smell that just wouldn’t go away.

At first, the scent Lane originally noticed had only been slightly annoying and easily dismissed, but the longer you stayed stuck within your own four walls the more disturbing it became. It smelled _rotten_ , but somehow sweet at the same time. 

It was unlike you to become obsessed with anything, but now there was nothing more important than finding it and ridding yourself of it.

You knew you needed to get out of the house as the hunt consumed you. You missed people. You missed Dean… Your imaginary Alpha. Not having any friends had been a blessing before, but now it was contributing to the slow loosening of the screws tethering you to reality. Getting out into the world _was_ on the list of things to do, but you were emotionally and physically exhausted with no relief in sight.

So you moved from room to room carrying a bucket of ultra concentrated cleaner and scrubbed every wall, countertop and open space you could wipe a sponge across. You’d opened every air vent and tossed scented beads meant for the laundry into them, you’d washed every scrap of linen you owned twice, and left your windows open. It was hopeless.

Your cell phone started ringing from the bedroom after four hours of scrubbing and you almost threw the bucket in frustration.

 _Fucking Lane_. She’d been calling every day to give you updates on the serial killer, despite the fact that the murders had stopped. With your mental state, you really didn’t give a shit, but your sister hadn’t noticed. Over the past week you’d discovered how good of an actress you were when it came to her. Either that, or Lane was so wrapped up in her own perfect little life that she didn’t really care to decipher the weary undertones of your voice as you attempted to play the chipper girl you’d once been.

The bucket splashed murky water over the tile floor of your guest bathroom as you dropped it carelessly and made your way to the room. 

The phone stopped ringing as soon as you grabbed it. 

A wave of anger crashed against the ever thinning shore of your resolve, battering it into nothing. The rash on your arm had been deepening in color for days and now it pulsed, sending a ripple of vibrations from your arm straight into your heart.

A frustrated scream echoed around the room as you chucked the device at the wall.

It started ringing again as it hit the floor, and you saw red.

Marching across the room and picking up the shrieking piece of technology your thumb jabbed angrily into the green answer button.

“ ** _What_**?” You snarled, no longer able to hold back the overwhelming emotion you’d been attempting to hide from Lane.

 _“Woah, sissy! Is everything alright?”_ Lane’s concerned but happy voice flooded your ear and sent another ping of frustration through you.

“No! It’s _not_ alright! I’m trying to clean and you won’t stop _fucking_ calling me!” The silence from the other line hung heavily in the air around you as it thickened with your tension.

 _“Y/N…What’s going on?”_ She sounded hesitant, like she was unsure if she actually wanted to hear the answer to her own question. It set you off in a way you weren’t expecting.

“Fuck you Lane, like you actually give a shit!”

_“Excuse m…”_

“Shut the _fuck_ up and listen, okay? You call me every day and talk about what is hands down the most needy and stressful shit I have _ever_ heard in my life. I haven’t slept in a God-damned week! I can’t get this fucking smell out of my house and I’m tired of hearing about a fucking serial killer that isn’t even killing anymore and your fucking _perfect_ kids and your _tool_ of a husband and your whole _perfect_ little life that I will apparently never have now that I’ve lost my _fucking_ mind so how about you give me some space before I flip my shit!” Your chest heaved as your rant ended, the anger slowly draining away as you realized the gravity of the words that had just left your mouth.

Lane was silent for a few moments as she absorbed your outburst.

 _“Y/N…”_ she started cautiously, waiting for you to interrupt her again. When you didn’t, she continued. _“You haven’t slept in a week?”_ Lane’s voice cracked, hitting you in the chest like a ton of bricks. Suddenly, you felt like the world’s biggest dick.  

You took a few deep breaths and nodded, before you realized she couldn’t see you.

“No, I haven’t. I’ve tried but…I don’t know what’s going on.”

_“At the risk of pissing you off again, sissy… I really think you should call the doctor.”_

Flopping down on your bed, you closed your eyes and tried to calm the raging storm inside.

“I’m sorry Lane… I just can’t do that. I’ve got some stuff to take to get me to sleep and I’ve just been avoiding taking it. I’ll do that tonight and maybe I won’t be so cranky tomorrow.”

An uneasy feeling was creeping up on you as you waited for her answer.

Maybe she wouldn’t call tomorrow. Maybe you’d made her cry and she hated you now. Maybe…

 _“You know, Y/N… This sounds kinda bad. I think you should call Doctor Cameron.”_ Your eyes snapped open at the sound of his name. The headache pinched back into your awareness and the rash flared painfully on your arm.

“ _Doctor Cameron_? How do you know who Doctor Cameron is? He wasn’t part of my team at the facility.”

 _“Oh! Um…“_ The longer she didn’t answer, the hotter your rage burned.

“ **Spit. It. Out. _Now_**.”

 _“Doctor Mara gave me his number and told me to keep him updated on your progress.”_ Her words came out in a jumble, but you understood them well enough.

You’d been _betrayed_. By your sister. By your doctors. By the comfortable world you’d allowed yourself to fall into and the false hope you’d had before all of this insanity.

“I’m a fucking adult Lane that shit is _illegal_. You’re not allowed to talk about my health with my fucking doctors without my permission!” The venom in your words didn’t go unnoticed, but Lane seemed unfazed when she answered you.

_“You’re an Omega, Y/N. You’re still legally tied to me I have an obligation to…”_

“Fuck you _bitch_!” Your screech pierced your own ears as you hit the ‘end’ button and pitched your phone back into the wall. A satisfying crack signified the broken screen.

Rising quickly from your bed, you went to the dresser. In a sudden flurry of movement, your arms swept  across the top and sent everything to the floor. 

Your chest heaved as the items thumped into the carpet.

No coherent thoughts made their way through the noise in your head, just the overbearing feeling of being trapped.

You made your way around the house slinging everything you could get your hands on into the nearest wall, but after destroying the hall closet and a bathroom you realized it felt _good_.

Every item broken was another chink in the chain holding you back, every thump another step away from the oppression you’d been suffocating under.

For the first time in months you felt like you were on your way to being _free_ , being able to do whatever you wanted with nothing able to stop you.

Your fists pounded the wall between the kitchen and living room, each impact jolting the dark thing inside you that had been just waiting for its moment.

You moved into the kitchen and pulled out every drawer, emptying the contents onto the floor before flinging them down too and moving on.

Your eyes landed on the piano you’d spent three years saving for, just as images of Lane and her happy little family flashed through your mind. Eyes narrowing, you made your way over to the instrument with a hammer from under the sink. You fully intended on destroying it.

On taking out the biggest symbol of the lie you’d been living.

As you reached it, however, your body temperature spiked sharply. A series of cramps had you kneeling on the floor holding onto the stool to keep from collapsing as they knocked the wind out of you.

Tears pricked sharply in your eyes before sliding down your cheeks, full-on sobs accompanying them quickly.

All you’d wanted your entire life was to live happily and find your Alpha. Unlike most Omegas these days, you’d always believed there was one out there waiting for you.

Watching Lane’s life unfold before you had been a source of hope, not the misery you now experienced.

You blamed your own brain for breaking on you. Every dream you’d had was shattering before your eyes every morning. It was all twisted and mangled beyond recognition as your pupils would dialate so large the only thing you could see in them was black. You were broken, and no decent Alpha would want a broken Omega. Especially not one like Dean.

 _Dean isn’t fucking real,_ you reminded yourself angrily.

Everything came out in a rush of emotion. All the uncertainty, the jealousy, the pain, the anger… It all manifested into more tears until you had no more left to cry.

## __

Ten P.M. found you standing outside of a shitty dive bar just down the street from your apartments. You had walked, knowing you were about to drink yourself into oblivion.You hadn’t even bothered to clean any more after your break down, instead you’d taken a nap, gotten ready though the danger zone that was now your apartment, and left without a glance back.

You hadn’t drank since before the nightmares started, so you figured it wouldn’t take much to get you where you wanted to be. Your scent was strong despite the shower and mouthful of suppressants you’d taken before leaving the house, but that made you happy.

There were only three goals tonight.

Catch a buzz.

Take a knot.

Forget about Dean.

 _No, **Lane**. Forget about Lane,_ you chanted, hoping to convince yourself. Needing to forget an imaginary person would be ridiculous. It would mean admitting you were losing it.

Your heat was dancing lightly under your skin at the thought of your imaginary Alpha, the medication barely containing it. You mourned how long it had been since you’d felt his hands and mouth on you and the heat of his body satiating the need within yours.

A thousand smells wafted out of the open door to the bar, snapping you back to reality. Through the stale beer, cheap whiskey and sweaty bodies you could smell them as you approached.

Multiple Alphas out for a night on the town. On the prowl.

You hadn’t had sex in years, and as for taking a knot… Well that had _never_ happened, but it was going to tonight.

Your heat-spiced scent must have carried on the wind, because three heads were already looking your direction when you entered. You allowed an inviting smile to spread across your features as you eyed each of them in turn before heading to where a young bartender stood behind the counter. 

You could feel Alpha eyes on your ass as the short dress brushed against the bottom of your cheeks with every step.

“Whiskey, double-shot please.” You ordered, leveling a stare at the bartender when he didn’t react. He recovered quickly, but tripped over nothing as he rushed to get your order taken care of.

They were sizing each other up, the Alphas in the room, deciding with a silent pissing contest which would be allowed to approach you first. You didn’t care who it was. They had all been decently attractive and none were who you _really_ wanted, so you were settling for whichever won their little bullshit contest.

You tossed the double-shot back and signaled for another the moment it was set in front of you.

Scents during a heat were always overwhelming, but being in a room like this one after the sterile environments of the last few months had you feeling like you’d vomit. You were hoping it would settle after a few drinks.

As you downed the second shot you felt the winner approach you.

His scent arrived before he did, reeking of musky aftershave and tobacco smoke. Your eyes closed against the nasal assault as he slid onto the stool beside you gracefully. Forcing the smile back to your lips, you fought the rising bile. He smelled nothing like Dean.

 _That doesn’t matter,_ you scolded yourself. _It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t smell like an Alpha that doesn’t exist except in your head. Get it together and get his knot bitch._

“Hey darlin’.” His voice was silky smooth and his aura radiated exactly the vibe you were looking for.

Your Omega was already panting in anticipation as you took in his bright blue eyes and styled brown hair, but your body was slow to catch up.

“Hey there!” You responded sweetly, leveling a hot stare at him. He was unbelievably good-looking up close… If only he _smelled_ better.

Forcing yourself through the stench, you learned he was actually a pleasant guy. You found yourself laughing at his silly jokes and flirting in no time. After a few hours of conversing and a couple slow dances, he asked if you wanted to leave. You pretended to think about it before agreeing, but you’d made your mind up after the first few rounds he’d bought.

As he unlocked the door to the motel room he’d gotten, you took a minute to appreciate what you were doing. It felt dangerous…It felt right…and suddenly, he looked like the most delicious human you’d ever seen.

He ushered you through the door, and immediately your purse hit the floor as the fire in your veins danced to the primal beat of a song only you could hear.

Sean, as you’d learned his name was earlier, advanced on you. His Alpha status was obvious in how he carried himself, but his previously repellent scent had thankfully taken on some new notes during your time together, and those new notes were calling to your Omega in all the right ways.

As he gathered you into his arms you pressed your first finger into his chest and stared intently up at him. He stiffened at the contact but stopped moving.

“If you bite me, I’ll gut you.” Your tone brokered no argument, and he smirked.

“Wouldn’t dream of it darlin’.” With that settled, you allowed him to pull you flush against his chest and press a heated kiss to your lips.

It felt wrong at first. His mouth was the wrong size for yours, his tongue too small and his hands too delicate.

When he trailed his fingers down your shoulders, everything you were thinking was blissfully lost on the wind. Your Omega took control, making you fall pliantly into his grip as you gave up fighting the urges boiling in your soul before everything tinted red and went black.

##  **__~*~__**

“Maybe this isn’t _all_ bad…” Dean started, but Sam scoffed incredulously, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel.

“Dean, you’re a _teenager_!” Sam’s mind was still reeling at seeing Dean like this. 

The last time Dean had worn the face Sam was looking at, Sam had still been shorter than him. It was weird, and it was _witchcraft_. Sam didn’t see how that could be a good thing, but when Dean cleared his throat and pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, Sam’s throat clogged.

“It’s gone Sammy.” Dean’s voice was hopeful for the first time since he’d taken on the mark, but Sam noticed something else hidden under the surface.

“Oh…How do you feel?” Sam’s question was tentative as he expertly navigated the road through the dark. Dean shrugged, his eyes finding their way to the road ahead of them.

“Good…but not. It feels weird. Feels wrong.”

Sam snorted. “Well duh, you were a tortured adult this morning and now you’re…”

“No not that…” Sam quirked a brow in his brother’s direction as Dean continued. “Well I mean _yeah_ , is being a teenager weird? Sure. Is being rid of the Mark awesome? Of _course_ … But… She’s gone Sammy.”

He was talking about the girl again. Sam frowned.

Dean had been obsessing over a girl Sam was pretty sure didn’t actually exist, but somehow, Dean thought there was a connection between her and the Mark. He was remembering things about her from when he was a demon, things the demon had tried hard to ignore by burying them under booze and sex.

He’d been searching since he remembered her name… Since he’d slaughtered Randy and the rest, but Dean only knew her first name and had never even seen the girl’s face. With nothing to go on, Sam wasn’t surprised there had been nothing to find.

Sam had no idea how to handle the situation they faced. How could he convince Dean he was on a wild goose chase when there was no proof either way?

“She…She might not be real Dean. We’ve been over that…but this? This is a _good_ thing. The Mark is gone, maybe you could just…”

“Just _what_?” Dean interrupted, his voice cracking at the end, “Just forget about her and stay a teenager? Re-live puberty? Not drink again or have sex again for what I dunno, another six years minimum? I don’t think so Sammy.”

“Tell me again what Cas said…” Dean sighed. He’d told Sam the story of his conversation with Castiel multiple times, but Sam couldn’t seem to grasp it no matter how simple or complicated he stated it.

“Cas said he _heard_ her. That she was praying while I was locked up. While you were trying to cure me. She was begging for someone to save her from being trapped in a body that wasn’t hers, whatever the hell that means.”

“Ok so if Cas has heard her prayers and she’s real, why can’t he go to her? Can’t he tell where she is with his grace or something?”

“I asked him to try already. He’s still running on stolen grace and he said something about her being shrouded in darkness.” Dean shrank lower into the seat as he thought about her, scared and alone, dealing with whatever this was between them but having no idea what was going on. Sam wallowed in the silence as Dean fell into a brooding mood.

Dean wondered if she could feel him the way he felt her most of the time, if there was some song playing in her head that represented him. It broke Dean’s heart to think of his Omega suffering, but part of him knew he shouldn’t look. He should leave her alone, and having a clear head without the Mark made that point clearer. He _couldn’t_ though.

It was selfish, but Dean knew he couldn’t deal with a growing body and the issues in his life at the same time. He needed that _connection_ , he needed his _strength_ back, and he needed to find _her_.

No matter the cost, he would let her know who she belonged to.

##  **__~*~__**

A low groan rumbled from your chest as you stretched out in the motel bed. Your hand searched the empty space beside you, a frown painting your mouth when it encountered the cold sheets. The fire from before was raging hard, and you’d been hoping to wake up to a nice morning romp.

No such luck, Shane… _Or was it Sean?_ Was long gone, and the blood you noticed crusted under your fingernails told you he probably had been for a while now. You were always a scratcher in bed, but as you examined the streaks of faded red across your fingertips you realized _that_ had gone to the next level last night. 

You still weren’t satisfied. Your mind reeled as consciousness began to take hold and you realized you couldn’t remember anything, not about finally falling asleep and not about the Alpha you’d slept with.

No. The Alpha you’d _fucked_.

The real life Alpha who’d _touched_ you and most likely _knotted_ you. Your body didn’t feel any different than it had the night before, but the blood on your fingertips had a new and terrifying possible cause. Reality hit and you realized just how much danger you’d placed yourself in with one reckless decision.

Your hands flew to your neck as you sat up, searching and prodding in worry of what you might find. The lack of memories made you question the real events of the evening, and the lack of a mark on your neck brought your attention back to your hands.

A pang of arousal coursed straight to your clit as you scented the blood on them, your nose seemingly catching up with the rest of your senses. 

You didn’t fight the urge to touch yourself when it came, instead, you went with it, allowing your fingers to lightly trail down your naked chest as you fell back to the mattress. Dean’s voice filled your ears as you coasted your hand down to rub against your bare mound under the comforter.

You coated your fingers in your own slick and played, teasing yourself with light touches that stoked your desire for him. As you brought yourself close to the brink, you ripped your hand away, deciding it wasn’t enough. You wanted something with _mass_ between your thighs. A pair of shoulders attached to a head with a sinful mouth was preferable, but a pillow would have to suffice.

As you placed it between your thighs and rolled to your stomach, you moaned. The comforter was tossed to the side as you slid another pillow under you, creating a mount you could raise up over. Your fingers circled your nipples and pinched as you lowered yourself to the pile and started rocking your hips, praying that housekeeping would still be a while.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.

_“Hey baby.” The groggy voice and full body lying behind her were unexpected as Y/N opened her eyes. It was sweltering hot under the motel blanket, like she was in bed with a heater. Being_ under _the blanket was weird enough–the last thing she remembered was collapsing in an orgasmic heap atop a pile of shitty pillows–but then he spoke again, reminding her she wasn’t alone anymore. “Missed you so much,” Dean murmured, snuggling in close to her back and pressing a light kiss to her naked shoulder. She marveled at how well his body fit against hers despite his obviously larger frame–like he was meant to be there._

_“Dean?” Her question hung thick in the air as he wrapped his hand around her hip and ground his naked erection into the soft globes of her ass._

_“Were you expecting someone else?” Dean’s mouth closed over the clean skin of where he’d tried to bite her in the last dream, his mild chuckle humming into her pulse as he did so. His thick fingers started to wander, mapping warm skin he couldn’t see and sending nervous energy skittering under her skin. Y/N struggled to make sense of her surroundings as his scent engulfed her. It was thick, masculine and all-consuming in its realness. There were undertones she couldn’t identify; scents that were only familiar in the dream sense._

_She shifted under the covers, his hand sliding sinfully across her stomach as she turned to lay on her back. She could see him in her peripheral vision, but focused her attention elsewhere. The ceiling and walls of the room were familiar–it was the same room_ Shane…Sean? _Had brought her to, but she was thankful to notice all traces of him were gone, even his scent. She pushed away thoughts of the Alpha who’s blood had been crusted under her nails when she woke, and replaced them with Dean._

 _Dean._ Her Alpha.

_A dreamy grin crept it’s way across her mouth as Dean’s hand trailed up her chest, teasing its way between her breasts and up her neck. Y/N wanted to turn her head and look at him fully, this man that had consumed her thoughts and spiked her libido, but she couldn’t. His soft breath ghosting over her jawline as he pressed kisses there was too heavenly, a soft symphony of sensation she never wanted to end.  
_

_If she moved, if she tried to see him, she was afraid he would disappear again._

_She squeezed her thighs together and shut her eyes as his hand cupped her chin. Her breath stopped when he used his hold to make her face him. After a few tense seconds, Y/N inhaled deeply. At the same time so did Dean, and they groaned in unison, their combined smell an intoxicating mixture acting exactly as nature intended._

_Dean couldn’t believe his luck. He’d been missing her so badly when he fell asleep, and here she was again. Hot, ready, and feeling more perfect than he remembered. Even with her eyes closed, he felt like he could see into her soul._

_Her scent had him hard the second he’d opened his eyes to this strange dream world, and now he couldn’t be close enough to her. The Mark burned pleasantly into his arm with every caress, pulsing with satisfaction in response to the physical connection._

_“You’re the best dream,” Y/N whispered, her voice crackling with emotion as the rash on her arm tingled in time with his fingertips over her flesh. The surreal feeling of floating contradicted the soft mattress beneath her and the scratchy blanket covering her, but it persisted nonetheless._

_She was_ so _afraid to open her eyes, and fought desperately to hold on to the feeling of him as he scooted more firmly against her._

_“What if I told you I was real? That I’m not just a dream?” His words settled like a heavy blanket, stealing the floating sensation away and replacing it with something darker. Dean took her silent moments to memorize her face; the beauty he’d been deprived of for so long._

_Now that he’d seen it, he knew he would never forget._

_“Omega,” he cooed, dark honey dripping from every syllable, “Look at me.”  He could feel her reluctance, and the demon raging inside was affronted. She was_ his _, and she would do as commanded. The monster was fueled by the Mark, but contained by Dean’s Alpha. The original beast inside Dean would not let the darkness steal this moment, it would not allow the Mark to twist the precious time he had before she was lost to him again._

_Laying beside her, he felt whole. Like every second of his fight against the worst parts of himself were worth something. If losing the Mark meant losing her, Dean would keep it forever._

_Y/N allowed her hands to reach out for him, wanting to feel his solidity before she took the chance of looking at him. The pads of her fingers awkwardly met his rib-cage first, and he hissed in pleasure at the contact. Emboldened, she followed the line of skin down to his hip, keeping her touch light until she reached thick muscle. Her fingers dug in hard when they reached the soft dusting of hair that signified the top of his thigh, pulling another chuckle from the man lying against her._

_Making the hard decision, Y/N let her eyes flutter open._

_It was better to risk ending the dream than go another minute without seeing his face._

_The first thing that registered was the impossible sparkling green of the eyes peering back at her, unblinking and intense._

_“Oh my God…” she managed, trying to memorize every facet of his face. From soft spattering of freckles over his nose to the soft slope of his lips, he was perfect. Dean was everything she could have never even imagined to dream of, and she was floored. If she hadn’t been lying down, she knew the dizziness would have overcome her._

_He was an Adonis undeserving of the broken Omega she was._

_And she_ was _his. She could feel it._

_Y/N tried to form more words, but shame over her brokenness had emotion clogging their pathway. Of every way she’d imagined meeting her Alpha over the years, this was not one of them. She had been ready, and now she was nothing…a lost little ship capsizing in a hurricane of violent insanity. As tears clustered in her eyes and started to fall, the dark lust clouding Dean’s eyes gave way to concern._

_“Hey, what’s wrong?” His hand left the warm safety of the covers to wipe his thumb across the streaking tears, brushing a stray hair behind her ear.. She couldn’t help the sob that escaped when she noticed the blood spattered onto his cheek._

_They had done it again. She just_ knew _there was a body lying somewhere in the room, and it was her fault. It was only a dream, but it was a dream produced of her twisted mind. What right did she have to subject someone to these dark fantasies that had taken her over?_

_Even a fake someone._

_Her hand gripped his wrist and pulled it gently from her face. Dean frowned as he noticed the blood he had smeared across her cheek, fighting the sudden urge to lick it off._

_“You’re so perfect…Even though you aren’t real, I don’t deserve you, Alpha.” His body twitched at the title, a low rumble emanating from his chest. Her words confused him until he remembered that she_ would _believe this was just a dream. There was no way she could know the things he knew. No way she could know about the Mark. Even he didn’t understand it, their connection was something that couldn’t be denied once he’d been made aware of it._

_He wasn’t sure if she’d be safer left believing he was a dream._

_“‘Mega, I…” The words died in his chest, lust clouding his mind again as the metal tinge of blood seeped into their combined scents. Her sweet lemon-honeysuckle-Omega mixed with his leather-whiskey-Alpha was intoxicating enough without it, but with it?_

_He wanted to fuck her over the corpse he could see peeking up behind her silhouette, on the floor by the bathroom. He wanted to make her scream his title while his hands left his marks everywhere they touched, use the blood they’d spilled to split that Omega pussy open until she could feel him between her legs long after she woke up…_

_Prove to her that this was real–even in a dream._

_Her sniffles brought him back, reminding him to think with the head on his shoulders, not the one in his arm… and definitely not the one demanding he sink into her and fuck her until she couldn’t think straight._

_She waited patiently for him to continue, watching the curious misting over his eyes, but he didn’t, so she started rambling._

_“This is all just… You’re a_ dream _, Dean.” Her laugh was dry, “Why did I name my Alpha Dean? I’ve never even met anyone with that name… Also, how the fuck am I so aware if this is a dream? Why do I keep dreaming about this? What the hell is happening to me? It’s like the nightmares but instead you’re making it feel_ so _good but there’s always so much…blood…” Her eyes went to where his wrist was still caught in hers, his blood streaked hand hanging awkwardly between them as she trailed off. Her pink tongue slipped out to wet her lips as the urge to lick his fingers clean, the same urge Dean had pushed away, overwhelmed her. Slowly, ever so slowly, she pulled his wrist to her mouth and did as the darkness inside commanded._

_Her tongue met the base of his palm before licking a fat strip straight up the middle, flicking at the tip of his middle finger before sinking it completely into her mouth. He was in shock, but his cock twitched when she let out a sinful moan while her tongue laved his finger clean, sucking hard until it left her mouth with an audible pop._

_“Oh fuck, ‘Mega,” he groaned, forgetting everything he had wanted to say before. He rolled on top of her and claimed her lips, his Alpha finally losing control. Everything inside him roared with satisfaction as his tongue lapped at the taste of their sins from her mouth. He rutted his hips down, his slowly swelling knot catching on her clit and encouraging whimpers from her that spiked his temperature._

_Her nails clawed at his back, leaving trails of his blood where she broke the skin. The splinters of pain only egged him on, and he lifted his hips, adjusting just enough to tease the head of his cock into her already soaked entrance._

_“Alpha, need…” she grunted, her head straining back and mouth dropped open wide. She wiggled her hips, trying to force him inside, “need your knot.”_

_He obliged, sinking knot-deep into her with one fluid motion. Her eyes slammed shut as he pulled out and sat up on his knees. She wouldn’t look at him,she decided, wouldn’t soil his perfection with her tainted eyes.  
_

_Dean wanted to see her; wanted to watch her come undone because of_ him _, but if she needed to close her eyes he would allow it. Anything for his Omega._

_Her hips followed his up, and he propped her ass against him. He made sure her thighs draped over his comfortably before slipping his cock back inside her willing heat. He groaned as her pussy sucked at him, then he started thrusting. Dean’s eyes devoured how he looked soaked in her slick, and his body pulsing with the pleasant sensation of pounding into an Omega that felt like she’d never taken a knot._

_“Tight ‘Mega,” he growled his hands trailing her stomach and legs as he worked his hips, “Such a good girl.”_

_Her hands, unable to reach him, pinched and teased at her nipples as he moved frantically. One of his hands found hers and moved it from her breast to her clit, rolling their fingers together in tantalizing circles over the swollen bundle of nerves._

_She was a whimpering, whining, mess of hormones and lust, and he was overcome by the perfection of her body wrapping so snugly around his. Her pussy clenched around him as he adjusted the angle of his thrusts, and he pressed their fingers harder down her clit._

_“Cum for me Y/N. Cum for your Alpha.” She gurgled incoherently in response, the sound of her name on his lips an unexpected aphrodisiac. The dark world behind her eyelids flashed red when he removed his hand from her clit and splayed the large appendage firmly against her lower abdomen. The increased pressure had the world splintering around her, waves of pleasure thrashing through her body and into his as she came. Dean’s knot popped on the last thrust, locking him deep inside as he spilled ropes of cum into his Omega’s body. He rutted roughly against her as she came down. Panting like an animal, he knot fucked her and massaged her legs while she twitched._

_“Still believe this can’t be real?” His words came in a pant as he dropped her hips and readjusted their awkward positioning. His body covered hers for a second before he fell to his side, pulling a weak whine from her throat when his knot tugged at her._

_Dean smirked cockily as he watched her mouth moving and her eyes twitching behind the closed lids. After a second of watching her try to come back to herself, he decided he wasn’t comfortable enough, so he rolled them until he was on his back. Her body draped perfectly across his, and he felt his cum leaking out around his slowly deflating knot. He moaned as she shifted against him, getting comfy in their new position. Dean idly wondered if she realized she was still grinding her hips against his, but resolved not to say anything because it felt amazing._

_Y/N’s hands lazily explored his arms as her eyes fluttered open. Everything was buzzing pleasantly inside her, feelings of completion she’d never known existed burning in her chest. His hands were petting her hair, lulling her body back to calmness._

_“It feels less real than before now… In what world could this be real, Dean?”_

_He stilled, and she waited for him to explain._

_Waiting on a dream to explain a dream._

Yep, I’ve definitely gone insane.

_“I’m a real person Y/N. I know you think this is just a dream…”_

_Her head finally turned enough to look up at him, and he jumped a little when he saw her eyes._

_They were black._

_“Of course it’s just a dream…” She stopped, confusion washing her features as she registered his shock. “What’s wrong?”_

_She looked so content and so innocently confused that Dean didn’t know what to do. The demon inside hooted with victory._

_A dark soul to match his own. Finally._

_“I um…” He cleared his throat and closed his eyes, laying his head back on the pillow to avoid her inky stare. “I thought you were a dream the first time too. I mean this_ is _a dream, technically…” He stopped himself before he started to ramble as she had, collecting his thoughts on how to best explain the situation. “The connection is real… I don’t know how, but I feel you.”_

_She snorted and snuggled her head back into his chest. “Yeah okay. What a weird ass dream.”_

_“I’m not kidding, Y/N. I hear your song.” Her eyes had been half closed, but snapped back open._

_“My song?”_

_“See you again. The one you play on the piano.”_

_“How do you… Oh, dream, duh.” She allowed her eyes to fall closed as Dean huffed in irritation._

_“I feel you. You’re inside me all the time ‘Mega.”_

_Her frown was deep as she took in his words, but his hands returning to her hair soothed her back to contention._

_“You_ can’t _be real Dean. It’s not possible. I’m just a girl, in a dream, laying in bed with an imaginary Alpha, losing her mind.”_

_“I’m real ‘Mega, whether you believe it to not,” he growled, his hands moving to brace her lower back as he pushed his hips up, burying his knot deeper, “And I’m coming for you.”_

##  **__~*~__**

You jumped as pounding at the door broke you out of slumber. Angry shouts and a thumping fist echoed through the room as you tried to come back to reality.

_Holy fuck…_

The tingle of your orgasm was still there, the fullness of being knotted for the first time lingering and making the real world foggy. It was a strange mixing of realities, and your core was clenching around nothing as you rolled your hips against a pillow already soaked with your slick.

“Fuck off!” You snarled at the intruder. You thought they’d get the message and go away until you heard the male voice yelling something about check out time. You shot up to sitting position and took in the state of the room. It was clean other than the stink of sex and Omega. Then it hit you.

You could still feel the slight fever threatening your heat.

“Oh shit…” Quickly you sprang from the bed, dressing and gathering your meager belongings while the angry sounding man continued pounding on the door. In between knocks, you flung the door open and ducked right under the arm of the screaming motel owner.

You were gone before he could chase you down, his belligerent voice fading into the background as you ran..

##  **__~*~__**

Dean rumbled angrily as he came awake, the dream of Y/N fading.

He tried to push himself back to sleep and back into her arms, but it was useless. The dream was gone, snatching the feel of her along with it. Her face was still there, however. He clearly remembered everything he’d seen this time, and he was determined to keep remembering.

He sent prayers to Castiel, hoping the Angel would have more luck now that he could see the girl’s face in Dean’s head.

It was time to find her. 

Bad idea or not, Dean had made her a promise.

He intended on keeping it. 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.

“What did Cas say?” Dean managed to ask before stuffing more of the cronut into his mouth. He propped his hip against the table as Sam dropped his bag and huffed.

“So good news,  bad news. Bad news–he discovered riverboat gambling. Good news, he thinks he might be closing in on Cain.” Dean fought the rage as he pictured Castiel gambling when he could be looking for Y/N, and at the prospect of losing the Mark before he found her.  

With more self control than he normally possessed, he kept his tone sarcastic instead of venomous, “Oh, wow, thinks he _might_ be.”

“Yeah, just East of the Mississippi  somewhere in Illinois.” Sam provided, his tone uncomfortably cheerful.

Dean chewed on the information, still doing his best not to show his true feelings. He’d asked Cas to come home when he’d woken with Y/N’s face in his brain, but all his asking and arguments had been in vain. Cas and Sam insisted the Cain search was more important than finding the Omega he was “dreaming” of. Dean tried to explain they were more like visions than dreams, but it hadn’t mattered.

They thought Y/N was safer not knowing what was happening to her, if she was even real.

“So, maybe Cas finds Cain in the land of Lincoln, and then what?” Dean asked incredulously, remembering how Castiel had “thought” he felt Y/N cloaked in darkness. Since it had been brought up to Sam, the Angel had changed his story. 

Now Castiel wasn’t sure what he’d felt–now, it was possible she was just a vision prompted by the Mark, a ploy,  based on his biological needs. Unmated Alphas at his and Sam’s age were known to get familial urges the longer they spent alone. Dean thought it was bullshit. Random Omegas, and sometimes even Betas, helped them through ruts just fine…this was more than that.

“Then we get him to tell us how to remove the Mark.” Dean couldn’t hold back a snort at that. How could Sam not see how ridiculous this search was becoming? How long would he and Y/N have to hang in limbo?

Every lead was a dead end… Y/N was out there suffering without him. Somehow, _because_ of him. Dean didn’t need to know how. He knew–he just knew…it turned his stomach thinking about it– that he needed to do something.

Searching for Cain and trying to get rid of the Mark were just eating up opportunities to search for her. The Mark was the link, he was sure of that now, and they wanted to get rid of it.

Dean had been trying to hide his growing impatience with Sam and Cas’ avoidance of the conversation, but every day the song tinkled in the back of his mind, lulling him into complacency and riling him up. A pulsing beat of violence emanating from the Mark reminded him that things were coming to a head, and something had to give.

He just hoped it wouldn’t be his resolve.

“Don’t you think if Cain knew how to remove the Mark he’d have done it, like, centuries ago?”  

“We won’t know till we try.” Sam’s bullheaded path of finding a cure was set, but Dean was still contemplating ways steer the search back in the direction of his Omega. Back to Y/N.

“Sammy I appreciate the effort, man, I really do, but trying to find a cure for this thing… It-It’s like a dog chasing its tail. There’s no end in sight, and you just end up dizzy.” He knew Sam wouldn’t drop it, no matter how hard Dean pushed. He knew Sam thought this was the way… but Dean would try anyway.

Keeping Dean from the Omega he was dreaming about was part of the plan for Sam. She could only be an illusion, something conjured up by an ancient curse.

When Cas had verified the possibility that she was real Sam had become more worried, but now Cas claimed he wasn’t sure… It was all too sketchy. They couldn’t play too closely to either side of the option.There were only more questions now, with no answers in sight. 

Who was she, if she was real? How was she connected to Dean?

How was she connected to the Mark? 

If she wasn’t, what was the reason for her existence in Dean’s head? Why did the Mark need Dean searching for his Omega?

Having visions of a stranger was bad enough, but having them about an Omega that may not be his–something Sam had gotten a fist in the jaw for suggesting– and a feeling as intense as the connection Dean was describing? It spelled nothing but trouble. No matter the truth, Sam needed to put off exploring it for as long as possible.

If that meant removing the Mark before they found her, then Sam would get it done.

If she was real, she was probably living a completely normal life… What right did they have to disturb that?

Sam had tried to explain that to his brother, many times, but Dean wouldn’t hear it.

Dean was convinced she was connected and that she needed him…but Sam wasn’t sure Dean was in his right mind. Not anymore.

“Dean where there is a will–”

“There is a case.”  Dean had prepared for this moment. He knew Sam would try to subvert where Dean wanted to lead the conversation, and the older hunter had prepared. If his brother wanted to keep working, they would keep working. “Check this out, Iowa teen claims possesed pickup kills driver. Let’s say we take our own trek to, uh, the midwest.” Sam’s face showed his skepticism, but Dean knew his little brother couldn’t resist. Maybe with a little diversion, and a little time, he could convince Sam of how important finding Y/N could be.

##  **__~*~__**

Your fingers flew across the keyboard of your laptop as you clacked away, searching every key phrase you could think of.

“Dean” and “dream” had yielded less than desirable results through the hours of searching, and the burning in your arm was becoming more insistent. Since you’d fled your way down the street from the motel and back to the disaster area that was your home, the only thing you could think about was his face.

His hands, his body sliding so perfectly against yours… His _smell_.

He’d said he was real. You’d had what could be considered a conversation with him. Even as you contemplated the impossibility, you knew you had to do something. Sitting idle, suffering bloody visions of death and dismemberment, and seeing black eyes in the mirror in the mornings, were no longer things you could pretend would go away. He _had_ to be the solution.

At some point, all logic had flown out the window and you’d accepted everything your mind had been pushing at you. With that acceptance came a sense of peace, intertwined with a new urgency.

_Find him._

You knew what his face looked like– _fuck, that perfect face and his piercing eyes and those adorable freckles dusting over his perfect nose_ –you shook the thoughts away. They would only serve as a distraction. What was the purpose of dwelling on a dream if you knew he was really out there somewhere, waiting?

Resuming your search but still picturing his face, you knew god damned well that you’d seen it before…but where? Nothing came to mind when you tried to imagine him in any way besides covered in blood and bringing you to heights of pleasure you’d never felt before. It was a very specific vision that blocked out all memory you might have been able to conjure otherwise.

Your frustrations were rising the longer your search dragged on. Every time you had to step over a broken vase or shove the forks out of the way with your foot to get a glass of water, you screamed inwardly.  

The mess on your floors was perfect symbolism for the mess in your body.

Six more pills down the hatch. Two for the screaming headache, one for the rash, and three heat blockers. You were determined to force your body into submission, and you refused to think about the consequences of failing.

Returning to the couch was a chore, but you managed without stepping on or tripping over anything.

**California.**

The word whispered through your mind as you sat down, confusing you for a moment. You’d never been to California…

Piercing pain suddenly rattled between your ears, catching you off guard. Your hands clutched to your head as you cried out, dropping the computer and curling into a ball.

**Wisconsin.**

**Missouri.**

**Iowa.**

The names ravaged their way through your thoughts, flitting away before you had a chance to examine them through the screaming pain. It felt like someone had taken shears to your scalp, cut open your skull and dumped acid onto your exposed brain. Waves of pressure rolled through your body, pushing their way through each cell individually before squeezing around you into a vice that stole your breath.

You were retching over the side of the couch without being conscious of it, too overwhelmed by the sudden assault to care that you had just purged all the medicine you took.

Too overwhelmed to notice the swelling in your arm.

–

When you came to, you were lying on floor of your entryway. The smell of the apartment had your stomach clenching, trying to heave out contents it didn’t have. The sickly smell of death you had been studiously ignoring was now blanketed by the fresher smell of your stomach acid.

The sun barely shining through the window told you that you’d been out for hours.

As you wobbled your way up onto your hands and knees, pain blinded you. You whimpered and went down, rolling onto your back to examine your palms. There were shallow cuts that had long crusted over. Farther down your right forearm, the rash was defined into a large maroon welt. It had never been so defined, but never had it been less painful. You didn’t know if everything else just hurt too bad, or if the throbbing and itching was really done. It was strange purpleish-red pattern in the form of a gnarled, backwards seven with two equally gnarled lines beside it. The redness surrounding it had gone, but the shape itself looked like a giant blister.

“What the fuck kinda rash _is_ this?” You sat up, using the wall for support. Your knees cried out next, and you had to pluck tiny pieces of a broken vase from the skin. Wiping your face with the back of your hand, you realized how badly you were sweating.

Heat was curling back under your skin, licking it’s way through your veins with fervor, and you suddenly remembered throwing up, the blistering pain in your head, passing out on the couch, and what you’d been doing when it all happened.

_Dean._

Your first thought was to call Lane. Whatever was happening this time, it was bad…but then you remembered your broken phone and your rage. _Fuck Lane._

The fresh wave of anger helped you to your feet so you could stumble into the disaster area that was your bathroom. Fifteen minutes into the freezing shower you started to feel more like yourself, and smaller flashes of memory brought forth the names that had spiked into your consciousness during your episode.

_California._

_Wisconsin._

_Missouri._

_Iowa._

_Dean._

You didn’t bother toweling off after the shower, choosing instead to throw on the loosest shirt you owned and some pajama pants that clung to your soaked skin. You made sure to re-take all of your medicines and stash them into your bag before snatching your laptop and car keys.

##  **__~*~__**

Focusing on saving the lives of others was always a good distraction for hunters; a productive way to get away from their own problems. Twisted as it was, it was a coping mechanism Dean and Sam had employed since they were old enough to hunt.

These were the moments Dean always dreaded, however. The empty silence of time stretching by when he had to sit with a victim of the supernatural. Nothing happening was a _good_ thing, but being stuck idle while Sam ran free searching for a solution was making him twitchy.

It wasn’t that Dean disliked helping people cope with what they’d done, or what was happening, but the conversations always hit a little closer to home than he expected.

This time was no different. She was a sweet girl, but being alone with her while Y/N lingered in the back of his mind made him uncomfortable.

Delilah had been a trooper. No screaming or hysterical crying, no desperate begging for forgiveness from someone who couldn’t grant it. She cried her tears, then was silent in her computer chair, surrounded by a salt circle with more patience than Dean would have had in her situation. The only indication of her fear was the spike of pheromones that would occasionally lace her scent.

Being hunted by a wi-fi ghost _you_ didn’t technically kill after it had murdered your friends was the kind of crazy that made up Dean’s life. Delilah on the other hand, should have been having a full meltdown.

Instead, she sat quietly for a long time, giving Dean the opportunity to dwell on his own black thoughts. The Mark was humming softly in his arm, in tune with the music in his head. He felt like he was going crazy, the urge to pick and scratch at the constant presence growing stronger the longer he was aware of it.

He _needed_ to find her. He _needed_ to touch her. Every second he became more consumed with finding ways to convince Sam that she could only be a good thing for all of them.

How could finding his Omega _not_ be a good thing? Dean had never believed in such thing as a “true mate”, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. After feeling her, hearing her…smelling her…he needed to know.

When it became too much, he spoke.

“You gettin’ tired?”

“No, I’m used to it.” Dean raised a brow at Delilah’s nonchalant tone as he peered out the window. “I stay up all night studying…” she continued, “Mostly to avoid the nightmares.” He sighed, moving to sit on the bed as she went on. If there was something Dean knew about, it was nightmares. “My mom is thrilled with my GPA but I’m just…miserable. I think about Andrew all the time. And I’ve never even met the guy.”

Delilah’s eyes searched his, begging for some understanding. “It’s pretty crazy to obsess about someone you’ve never met…”

“It’s not that crazy,” Dean admitted, glancing down at his hands and picturing Y/N’s features…the black eyes that were his fault. “The truth is, I can relate.” His pained smile brought what could have been relief to Delilah’s eyes.

“Really?”

“I have made more mistakes than I can count. Ones that haunt me day and night.” Dean imagined never finding her and frowned. Would that be one of his mistakes? Or was finding her the real mistake? Were Sam and Castiel right? 

Were the inky pools of Y/N’s eyes a product, or a premonition?

“So…How do you deal?” The college girl looked at him as if he had the answer, just like so many others had. Dean chuckled lightly, the sarcastic sound helping ground him to the moment.

“Whiskey. Denial.” When he met Delilah’s pained eyes, it was strange to realize he was on the giving end of soul searching advice when he had no real answers, even after all these years.

He suddenly felt like he’d graduated from Anakin to Obi Wan.

He was sure the real Obi Wan would have more confidence in his own words, but the fanboy in him would still celebrate this positioning later. For the moment, Dean settled for imparting some hard learned lessons to the next generation.

“I do my best to make things right. Whatever that may be. For you, maybe it’s…maybe it’s coming clean. You know, finding a way to ask for forgiveness. But not breaking the bank at your local florist I mean… _real_ forgiveness. “

What would he be asking forgiveness for, at the end of it all?

“You can’t just bury stuff like this. You gotta deal with it.”

##  **__~*~__**

The Biggerson’s by your apartment provided free Wifi and a chance for some fresh air. Being out of the toxic cesspool of your home was nice, but being around people was hard. You were thankful when the hostess had led you to a secluded booth in an empty area like you’d asked.

Your Omega waitress was sweet, but you found her scent and voice overbearing. Your eyes lingered over the faded bite on her neck, a twinge of jealousy pinching in your heart. In the end, all you could imagine was how much prettier she would look with a few open wounds criss-crossing her cheeks. You smiled tightly as she set the drink refill onto your table, only leaving when she had fussed over you for ten minutes and was satisfied you didn’t need anything else.

Armed with five random names and a belly finally full of food and drink, you were consumed by determination all over again.

Instead of trying to be clever, you typed everything into the search bar. As the page loaded, you felt like throwing up everything you’d just eaten. You hadn’t been expecting to actually find him so easily after so much failure.

Mugshots of Dean Winchester and his brother Sam were plastered all over the screen.

Your heart was in your throat as you took in that you were staring at a real picture of your Alpha.

He was a real person.

A person who was a serial killer…and also dead… _multiple times over_?

You slammed the laptop shut as your head started to spin.

##  **__~*~__**

Pain or Peace. That was the option Dean had given the ghost, and it seemed to be the theme of the day. Delilah had to make that choice, and, now, so did Dean.

“Looks like Andrew wasn’t the only one who chose peace.” Sam looked content as Delilah approached the Widow, like they’d won something. Maybe they had, and Dean knew his choice would be the same as Delilah’s.

“I think I’m gonna follow his lead too.”

Sam’s brow furrowed, a glimmer of hope shining in the hazel of his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Dean poured every ounce of honesty he could muster into his voice, trying to show Sam just exactly how much this meant to him as he killed the hope of finding a cure.

“My peace is helping people. Working cases. That’s all I want to do…but Y/N is our next case.” Sam’s face fell as he contemplated the dashboard, his jaw working. “She’s a real person that needs our help Sammy, whether you like it or not. She _needs_ me. These dreams are…they’re like your visions… Man, if what Cas said about her being cloaked in darkness is true, then it’s _my_ fault.”

“Dean, if there’s anything to blame it’s the Mark–”

“And _I’m_ the one who chose it!  I took this responsibility on, and now I gotta handle it. I’m done trying to find a cure, Sammy. Somehow, I infected her with this curse and I won’t risk–”

“Dean, Cas is _so_ close”

“To _what_? We don’t even know if there _is_ a cure. So far we’ve got nothin’. We have found nothing in the men of letters library, Metatron _may_ know something and Cas _may_ be onto something with Cain. _Maybe_.”

“Yeah _maybe_. Nothing is guaranteed Dean, so what? We can’t just stop fighting.”

“Yes we can. We can stop fighting this and use it to find her.”

“So this is it, you’re just gonna.. You’re just gonna give up?”

“No!” Dean groaned, wishing his brother saw this for what is was–a situation that didn’t just affect them. Keeping the Mark was a means to an end now. “No I’m not gonna _give up_. Look man, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but the answer is _not_ out there. It’s with _me_ , and _her_. I need to be the one calling the shots here, okay? I can’t keep waking up every morning with this false hope, I gotta know where I stand. Otherwise I’m gonna lose my freakin’ mind. So I’m gonna find her, and fight for her, until I can’t fight anymore. We’re going to figure out what the hell is going on, why I’m having these dreams, how Y/N’s connected to the Mark…to me… and when all is said and done, if I have to, I’ll go down swingin.”

##  **__~*~__**

It was late. Very late. The waitresses had switched shifts and you’d re-ordered food twice. Your knees were cramping from being shifted into the same three positions over and over, and each time your minor cuts screamed at you as if they were gashes. Your brain had given up reminding you that your palms were cut too.

You were ravenous in your search for him. Finally able to put names to faces had jarred some disturbing memories from your breakdown inside the facility, and you were struggling to connect the dots.

Sam was the big one who’d stabbed you with a needle full of human blood in a dream–but was it a dream? There were flashes of a conversation about demons and a cure and…it was all too insane,  even for your twisting mind.

Dean was your not-so-imaginary Alpha…and they were both dead.

At least, according to half the articles you found they were. The other half weren’t so sure, as they’d been declared dead before. You’d even found a weird ghost chaser’s website claiming they’d been helped by “some assholes” named Sam and Dean Winchester. It was a clusterfuck of information that made your head hurt even worse, but you refused to stop.

A serial killing spree across the Midwest. Charges of grave robbery and grave desecration across the entire U.S.. Ghost hunters. A fucking _book series_?

These guys were all over the place, and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this wasn’t part of another elaborate dream concocted by your crazy mind. Two Alphas had worked up the nerve to approach you over the course of your time in the restaurant, but their scent betrayed them before they could reach you, even over the permeating smell of food. One death glare had sent them scurrying away.

There was only one man on your mind, and none of the losers around you fit the bill.

When you were almost too tired to keep your eyes open, you signaled for your bill and take-out fries. After paying, you trudged out to your car, debating where to stay for the night. Funds were short since you hadn’t been working, and gas was going to be your biggest expense…You decided on your own back seat being the best option as you stopped for snacks and a small cooler full of ice.

You had a long drive ahead when you woke up.

First stop, Iowa.

##  **__~*~__**

_Cars zipped by on the other side of the hedges, the world moving forward at it’s own hurried pace as the monster took it’s time. A weak hand reached toward the sound of civilization, a choked gargle slipped from an unblemished throat. The throat belonged to Lauren–just another victim in the grand scheme of things. Just another lost soul, saved from the longing and hatred of the world surrounding her._

_“Rock-a-bye-baby,” the voice crooned, prompting another round of tears as the knife twisted in Lauren’s bellybutton, “in the tree-tops…”_

_“W–Why?” The words were thick with emotion and the Omega’s own blood. The knife slid out slowly, and she whimpered. “Please…stop…”_

_A slow grin appeared as the thing brought a finger to its mouth, sucking the blood off with an obscene pop before returning to the important work it was doing._

_“When the wind blows, the cradle will rock…”_

_Lauren attempted a scream as the knife slipped between her ribs , but her lungs had lost the strength for that… Probably when the bones had been crushed around them by inhumanly strong arms snatching her into the darkness._

_“When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,” Lauren moaned and tried to thrash, but the injuries reduced her efforts to mere trembling. “And down will come baby, cradle and all.”  
_

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.

“Oh my god…” Lane’s hand covered her mouth in shock as she opened the door to Y/N’s apartment. The escorting officer took one look at the blood on the floor and called for backup before producing his gun.

“Ma’am wait, please,” Officer Bishop called quietly as Lane took a step though, her foot landing right into a tiny puddle. “I need you to step back.” His voice was soft but urgent, catching her attention. As she looked up he placed his finger over his lips, silently shushing her.

“Wha–” Officer Bishop moved quickly, cutting her off as he maneuvered her into the hallway and stepped into the apartment in one movement.

“Colorado state police, is there anyone here?” Lane jumped slightly at his booming voice, so caring before, but now full of authority. He was met with silence and stepped into the living room,  carefully avoiding the mess of broken items scattered across the floor. “If there’s anyone here I need you to come out with your hands up!”

Again, silence was the only response and he backed his way out, pulling the door closed behind him.

“What are you doing? I need to go in there.”

“I’m sorry ma’am, I can’t let you do that.”  Officer Bishop had the decency to look remorseful as he shook his head. He planted himself in front of the doorway and produced a plastic bag. “I need you to put your shoes in here…you stepped in the…you stepped in some evidence.”

Lane cried noisily for a few minutes, standing in her socks and feeling as though everything good had been stripped from the world. The blood stains on her shoes glared at Lane from their plastic prison, mocking her until a team of officers and a forensic unit were clomping up the steps. They had no trouble herding Lane against the wall as they opened the door, immediately sweeping the apartment.

Y/N’s home was officially a crime scene.

After the initial sweep, a tech handed Lane a pair of plastic booties, signaling to Bishop that they were allowed to enter once she’d slipped them over her feet..  

Lane’s tears renewed as Officer Bishop escorted her through the rooms. Each space held as much damage as the last, as if a tiny tornado had had swept through upending everything her sister owned. The events of the past week tumbled into a harsh reality, .

Y/N had been pissed… maybe even hated her, because Lane had made an executive decision she’d known Y/N couldn’t make for herself…and now Y/N was missing while a serial killer was still on the loose.

Lane collapsed to the floor in her grief, a choked sob escaping as she buried her face in her hands and imagined all the terrible things that could be happening to her only sister. She pictured Y/N lost, mentally broken, and physically tortured…cut open and bled out like all those other Omegas. A soft hand caressed the span of her shoulders. It was Officer Bishop, awkwardly trying to offer comfort as she broke down. Each thud of booted feet traipsing through her sister’s house was a bullet to the gut, each broken item a remnant of their shattered trust, and suddenly it was all too much.

Lane shot to her feet, ignoring Officer Bishop’s pleas for her to stop as she raced toward the front door, zigzagging around small yellow evidence markers, broken glass and blood stains. She didn’t stop until she was halfway down the steps.

“Ma’am,” the young officer panted as he reached the landing, “Ma’am you can’t leave…we have to take you back and get your statement.” Lane stared up through watery eyes, trying to find some semblance of understanding in his earnest gaze. Instead, she found the worry he was trying to hide. The tears still hadn’t stopped, and she sniffled as she wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. Her gut told her something really bad had happened, never mind the mess in the apartment, and she contemplated calling Doctor Cameron. He’d been very understanding while dealing with Y/N so far, and she was his patient. He’d want to know…

“I’m not going anywhere…I just couldn’t be in there anymore.” The officer nodded, looking skeptical. Lane watched the struggle in his eyes. She could see his vain attempts to pretend like he didn’t already know where this was headed.

“How about I go ahead and take you to the station, you’ve seen enough here. The faster we get the paperwork done the faster we can find your sister.” Officer Bishop tried to smile reassuringly, but it fell flat in the face of her pain. He waited for Lane to head down the stairs before frowning, his real feelings making themselves known. He couldn’t tell her, but he had little to no hope of finding Y/N alive…the smell of death permeated every inch of her apartment. Officer Bishop was glad Lane had agreed to leave so quickly. His short experience in the force told him the team would find Y/N’s body soon, another victim of the brutal slaughter they couldn’t seem to stop…and he didn’t think it would be right for Lane to be there when that happened.

##  **__~*~__**

_The long, concrete hallway was well-lit, save for the bulb that flashed out as you suddenly appeared. You had no control as your feet propelled you forward, lights overhead flicking into darkness one by one as you reached them. On either side, locked doors to what appeared to be cells moved by, your hands lightly rattling chains that held smaller doors shut like some kind of old-school ghost._

_Each room seemed to be empty…until you found the one that wasn’t._

_In a blink you were inside, and inwardly you screamed. It was always something nuts with these nightmares._

_You were thrashing helplessly against the bindings of you body, furious that you were trapped yet again._

_Before you stood Tommy Tolliver, dressed in his white prison uniform. You recognized him from the endless news cycles discussing his pending execution for the murders he’d committed.  
_

_You were disgusted with yourself, with your illness, and with the satisfaction warming your chest._

_“Who the hell are you?” He demanded as he whipped around, obviously shocked at your sudden appearance. “How’d you get in here?”_

_It seemed Tommy wouldn’t be making it to his state scheduled execution as you started to speak._

_“I’ve been called many things in this life. The father of murder is one of them.”_ What the fuck? _Like always, you were left with more questions than answers as  the dream took you where it wanted. ”And by the State’s count, you’ve taken six lives yourself Tommy. Although by my count…it’s nine.”_

_The voice rumbling in your head and leaving your mouth was smooth, calm, and utterly terrifying. How you were even able to feel fear after everything you’d seen was a mystery, but it was there and you couldn’t escape it._

_Tommy’s hand searched the desk behind him frantically, grasping for anything that would save him from you. Experience told you that wouldn’t happen._

_“Oh come on, you aren’t one of those ‘it wasn’t me’ type fellas, are ya? Because i know you’re a killer…just like me.” You shuddered inside your foreign skin as Tommy’s fist balled up. He squared his shoulders and started to grin, his too large teeth making you cringe._

_“Yeah, I did it,” he said, trying to appear like he wasn’t just as terrified as you._

_“Honesty. That’s good.” You saw his move before he made it, catching Tommy’s fist before it collided with your face while growling, “That’s the spirit!” His hand was crushed as you twisted it downward. Tommy grunted in pain, but had enough sense to try again with his other hand._

_Instead of grabbing it, your hand came up, thick fingers making a strange motion that forced his arm down without touching him._

Fuck. First a demon and now I’m magic?

_“Now I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here. Did I come to punish you, or save you?_

_Well…” Your hand slid under the coat, grasping the handle of a knife sticking out from it. You leaned forward to whisper into his face, gagging mentally at the smell of his fetid breath. “The truth is, Tommy…I’m here to do both.”_

_You plunged the long blade deep into his gut, a wave of satisfaction starting at the mark on your arm and traveling your veins like white lightning._

__

You shot awake, flailing around the back of your car as you rolled onto the floor. A loud groan escaped as you tried to work your way back up into the seat. Your arm brushed the scratchy material as you moved, making you cry out in pain. The rash had been aggravated since you left Biggerson’s, and it was only getting worse.

You figured it was just the fever you’d been fighting as a small but painful tremor ran through your midsection. As you climbed between the seats and into the front you thought about the day’s goals.

Meeting up with Tex, the sketchy guy you’d found online who claimed to know about the Winchesters, was task one. You turned the car on before fixing your hair into some semblance of respectability. The sun was high in the sky, warming the inside of your vehicle against the chill outside.

You’d driven for a day and a half to get to Iowa, the last known location of the elusive Winchester brothers. In every city you’d been desperately posting in the personals section on Craigslist when you stopped for gas or rest in the hopes that someone would know something. It was a long shot, but finally Tex had emailed you with some ominous message about knowing who they were, and even possibly where they might be and your heart had leapt into your throat.

Honestly, you’d never expected it to work and you still weren’t sure, so you’d bought a straight edge flip-knife from a dodgy convenience store just in case.

You rolled the windows down and sprayed pheromone covering body spray in the hopes of hiding your scent. An Omega on the cusp of a heat was like open season for any jackass Alpha without a sense of self control. You were praying that Tex wasn’t one of them, but it was a risk you were forced to take. 

No amount of risk was too high when it came to finding your Alpha.

##  **__~*~__**

Dean grabbed his shotgun from the wall and frowned at it. “When he gave me the Mark, Cain said that this day would come…that after I killed Abaddon, I would have to come and put him down.” And he had been right. Cain was executing everyone in his bloodline, and it was up to them to stop him. Since Cas had actually found Cain, he knew he had to pause his pining over Y/N and get a move on…but that didn’t make it any easier.

“Great. So you’re taking orders from a madman.” Sam snorted.

“No,” Dean corrected stoically, “he wasn’t mad then.”

Castiel watched the hunters from the doorway, wondering if he should tell them he’d heard Y/N praying again. It had been faint, but the darkness swirling around her was so similar to Dean’s he couldn’t deny any longer that it was her. That she _was_ real, and something had changed for her. He decided to keep it to himself for the moment, not wanting to take their attention from the deadly situation with Cain.

There was much to do, and they could sort out the issue of Dean’s Omega later.

“Cain resisted the Mark for a long time, then I came kicking up trouble about the Blade. I sent him down this path. This is on me.” Castiel inwardly sighed, hating how his friend always took so much on. How he made himself responsible for the actions of others, things he had no business blaming himself for.

“It doesn’t mean you have to be the one to go after him,” Sam cried. Dean rolled his eyes. Wasn’t this exactly what Sam had wanted? What they’d been searching for? The sooner they took care of Cain, the sooner his brother and Castiel would take him seriously and help him instead of hindering him.

“Yes, it does Sam. And there’s only one thing that can kill him.” Sam’s eyes widened at the suggestion.

“The Blade?” He was ready to protest when Castiel stepped in, stopping the brewing argument between the brothers.

“Dean’s right,” Castiel offered grudgingly. There was no way to kill Cain without the First Blade. It was a calculated risk they had to take.

“Dean, wielding the Blade against Cain himself…” Sam trailed off uncertainly, fear for his brother overtaking logic. His eyes followed as Dean’s hand came to rest over the Mark, a pained look crossing his face for a second. “…win or lose, you may never come back from that fight.” When Sam finished, his voice almost a whisper. He searched Dean’s eyes for any sign of hesitation, any sense that he would be able to talk his brother out of this…but he found nothing.

“I know.” Dean’s resolute tone turned Sam’s stomach into knots as he looked to Castiel for help. There was none to be found. The Angel was staring sadly at Dean, but there was stone in his gaze.

##  **__~*~__**

“What’s a sweet little Omega like you looking for the Winchesters for? You a hunter too?”

Tex turned out to be a middle-aged Beta more interested in your story than your body. He’d bought you to a hole in the wall bar and tucked the two of you into a secluded corner when he’d felt the waves of stress rolling off your body.

“A what?” you asked, wondering what hunting had to do with serial killers.

“Guess not…don’t worry about it sweetheart. The Winchesters, girl…they’re dangerous. What do you want with ‘em?” His warm eyes so full of concern pulled you right in, making you feel safer than you had in months. He was handsome even though he had quite a few years on you. 

Your arm tingled as you pulled your long sleeve lower to cover it, suddenly self conscious of the growing redness.

“Well uh…” you peered around suspiciously. An odd sense of being watched had come over you after praying and you couldn’t shake it. “I’m writing a paper, and all of the websites I found are conflicting on whether or not they’re actually dead. I mean…serial killers who keep coming back? That’s the stuff of horror movies, I just wanted to find for myself if there’s more to the story.”

The well rehearsed story had Tex raising a brow has he sipped his beer, making you feel like he didn’t believe you.

He didn’t, but he wouldn’t tell you that. He could see by the haunted look in your eyes there was more to the story. Your body was withered under the large clothes you wore, and he hadn’t missed the rash you’d tried to hide. As a hunter himself, he knew more of the truth than most people and it didn’t take a skilled one to notice the signs of the supernatural. It was up to him now to keep you safe from whatever crazy mission you were really on.

“Well, last I heard they died at the police station down the road a few years ago. I don’t think anyone’s heard from ‘em since, but I wouldn’t put it past ‘em to have slipped away somehow. I’ve got some contacts, whadda’you say you come take a nice long shower at my motel room while I put some feelers out?”

Your eyes lit up at the suggestion, all caution thrown to the wind at the slightest chance of finding Dean and a shower.

“You’d do that for me? Help me find them?” Tears swam as Tex flashed red before your eyes, and you saw a vision of him slumped back against the seat, throat slit and blood leaking from the wound to soak his shirt.

Just as quick as it came the image was gone, and you wiped the tears away. They didn’t even bother you anymore, you just wanted to find your Alpha.

When he had you wrapped in his arms everything would be fine again.

“Sure thing little lady. But I’m gonna be with you the whole time if we find ‘em. Not lettin’ you around serial killer Alphas without protection or you’ll end up just another victim. You can get your story and we’ll get out…if they’re even still alive that is. Seen enough innocents get chewed up and spat out by this world. Especially Omegas.”

“I’m not your responsibility Tex,” you chuckled softly, “but thank you.”

##  **__~*~__**

Dean was nervous. It started with the soft music in his head like it always did, but now his heart was pounding to the beat of the symphony screaming in his skull.

After all this time…after everything, it was time to kill Cain. The man he’d destroyed as surely as the Mark was destroying him. Everything happening was his fault, and he was ready to accept the responsibilities that came with that.

His eyes lingered over Castiel and Crowley before landing on Sam.

Sweet Sammy, the boy who’d grown into a man under his watch. The man who’d had his back in a thousand situations and the little brother who just wanted his family to stay whole. Dean didn’t think staying whole was an option any longer as he felt the pull between the First Blade and the Mark coursing angrily through him.

Rage roiled against his resolve as he tried to hold himself calm enough to accept the cursed knife from Crowley without plunging it into the Demon King’s gut and ending him forever.

“Dean, look, we want to help–” Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

“No. No, with you in the ring, it’d just be a liability.”

“Dean?” Castiel frowned, stepping forward. This hadn’t been part of the plan. He didn’t want Dean to be alone.

“I’d be too worried about what he could do to you… Or what I could. Plus, I need you three out here to take out whatever comes out of there. And I’m serious, I mean whatever comes out.” Dean’s eyes implored them to understand, but he saw the struggle Castiel and Sam were having with his decision.

“Happily,” Crowley offered, an honestly solemn look on his face as he held up the First Blade. Dean steeled himself against the urge to rip it from Crowley’s hand. “What guarantee do I have that you’ll give it back when you’re done?” The King asked, wanting to hear the words. Wanting Dean to make the promise he’d return it instead of murdering them all.

“If I survive and I come out of there and I don’t give it back, you’ll all have a much bigger problem on your hands.” It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it was one Crowley could accept as he handed the blade over. He could see the waves of Dean’s curse wafting from his aura; knew how badly Dean was faring in his fight against the Mark…but Cain had to be killed, and Dean was the only one who could do it.

Dean’s eyes clenched shut as his fist closed around the bone handle. Everything in his head went silent, the only thing left being the primal drum-beat of his urge to kill something.

“Dean?” Sam asked uncertainly, snapping Dean out of his trance. The urge was still there, but with Sam looking at him like that, he knew he could hold on for a while longer.

Dean eyed the barn doors, inhaling deep. The smell of lemon and honeysuckle came from nowhere, coating his raw emotions like a salve and giving him the strength he needed to do what he had to. With a final glance at his assembled crew, he dipped his head. “I’m good.”

##  **__~*~__**

Showering had been amazing. You’d spent an hour and a half under the freezing spray, letting it wash away the grime of the road and the sweltering heat teasing under your skin.

After dressing you had sat down on the edge of Tex’s bed, adjusting the knife in your bra until it sat comfortably under you left breast. Talking to Tex was easy, and you found yourself opening up to him about the crazy dreams you’d been having for months, how they’d ruined your perfectly normal life and giving him the half-truth that they had inspired you to find the Winchesters so you could learn how to start a new life.

You could tell he thought you were full of shit, but you’d listened to him make the calls he’d promised to make, and even found a witch who claimed she knew how to get in touch with the Winchesters…for a fee.

A witch! You’d laughed heartily at that, almost unable to believe that he was playing into your insanity. Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he’d faked all of the calls and was really waiting on the police to come pick up the crazy girl he’d found searching for serial killers on Craigslist.

Something told you he was being honest, but that didn’t stop you from wondering anyways.

 _A witch._ You snorted, shaking your head and eyeing the man that was being so helpful for no reason.

“Why are you helping me, Tex?” You asked softly. His soft brown eyes met yours from the chair as you stood, crossing the room to stand over him. As you walked, a small cramp locked in your gut and you collapsed.

He caught you under your arms and hauled you halfway into his lap. It was incredibly intimate for two strangers, but Tex didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. He hadn’t ridiculed or laughed at your dreams. He hadn’t called you crazy…

You were so tired of feeling crazy.

Your eyes glanced up and caught the lust in his. Your upper body was across his legs and you took advantage of that by twisting down and settling to your knees. He stopped your hands as they ran up his jeans towards his hips.

“Alright girl, that’s enough of that.” You pouted up at him, flinching as another cramp twinged and your arm pulsed with increasing intensity.

“I just want to thank you for being so helpful…” You couldn’t help the sudden lust clouding your thoughts as your temperature spiked again. “because now I need a different kind of help.”

He took a nervous breath in, scenting your heat in the air without all your body spray to cover it.

“I’ve been fighting it,” your hands slid up again as his hold loosened. “And the suppressants are barely working…maybe if you help me, I won’t be in so much danger when we find m–the Alphas I’m looking for. Don’t you want to help me?” The shift in your attitude didn’t go unnoticed by him, but he decided this might be okay. It would be okay to help you…wouldn’t it? 

It was the right thing to do. 

He wasn’t an Alpha by any means, but your scent was strong enough for him to be affected by it, for it to make him want you in a way that hadn’t crossed his mind before.

You couldn’t remember how it happened, but your next memory was of him under you, both of your upper bodies still clothed while his hard cock pounded into your pussy and his thumb circled your clit frantically.  His eyes were closed as you bounced on him, moaning like a porn star.

He felt _good_ , but your body was demanding more. Demanding a knot. Your hips slammed down as you tried to pull him deeper, push yourself higher, rolling against his fingers and fighting the guilt of sleeping with someone who wasn’t Dean.

Your right arm was tingling as a deep drum started in your ears.

It felt like someone had cut a line from your rash to your palm as you bucked wildly against Tex’s ministrations. You were reaching desperately for an orgasm that was _right there_ , but just out of reach when your palm started to burn.

Your hand clenched, and you expected your nails to bite into the skin, but they didn’t.

In place of that pain, you felt the satisfying contour of the bone blade that had been haunting you. It felt right, so _perfect_ , as your thumb traced the surface. Your eyes squeezed tighter as your clit started to pulse and the drums raised in volume.

It was so close, but rage was building alongside the pressure of your climax and your right arm was arcing before you could stop it. Tex’s hand spasmed against you, finally sending you over the edge. You cried out as your eyes snapped open, letting the pleasure consume you even as you saw what you’d done.

Your left hand came down, grabbing his and pressing it back to your mound as you used it ride out the twitching bliss, reveling in Tex’s gurgles as the open gash across his throat stole his life.

##  **__~*~__**

The First Blade slid from Dean’s hand and straight under Cain’s foot as Dean watched from the floor.

How had he let that happen?

Flashes of Y/N fucking some stranger were distracting him from the deadliest fight of his life, _that was how._

Dean’s heart pounded in his chest as he forced himself to focus, to ignore the visions and figure out a way to get the blade back.

“Oh, it’s been too long.” Cain’s reverent tone helped bring Dean back to the moment. “That old feeling makes me wonder how I ever had the strength to resist.”

Dean let his rage take over. He ran at Cain, but the man snatched him up by the throat easily, tossing him to the ground and knocking the air from his lungs.

“This may be hard to believe, in light of what I’m about to do to you, but I care about you, Dean. I truly do. But I know I’m doing you a favor. I’m saving you.” Dean glared from his spot on the ground, searching for his moment as blood roared in his ears.

“Saving me from what?”

“From your fate,” Cain stated, as if it were obvious. “Has it never occurred to you? Have you never mused upon the fact that you’re living my life in reverse? My story began when I killed my brother, and that’s where your story inevitably will end.”

“No. Never,” Dean growled. He wouldn’t let that happen. He would never hurt Sammy.

“It’s called the Mark of Cain for a reason!” Cain yelled, circling Dean slowly. “First … first, you’d kill Crowley. There’d be some strange, mixed feelings on that one, but you’d have your reasons. You’d get it done, no remorse. And then you’d kill the angel, Castiel. Now, that one…that I suspect would hurt something awful. And then your Omega!” Cain lunged to the ground, snagging Dean’s shoulder as he pinned him with the First Blade at the hunter’s throat. Dean felt the pull, he felt the blade singing to him, begging him to bleed for it.

“I can see her, you know…begging for you. Calling out for you. Shedding blood for you. When you find her, you’ll kill her too.” Cain grinned, no shred of mercy in his violently blue eyes. “You’d think that would destroy you but _no_ , that just opens the door for the murder you’d never survive. The one that would finally turn you into as much of a savage as it did me.”

“No!” Dean struggled against Cain’s hold, the blade cutting slightly into his neck. His eyes fell to the knife sticking out from Cain’s coat as he fought the truth of Cain’s words, the confusion and hatred they brought. An idea formed as he stilled, fighting the tears of rage in his eyes.

“Your brother, Sam. The only thing standing between you and that destiny is this Blade. You’re welcome, my son.”

When Cain’s hand came up, Dean moved with all the swiftness the curse had given him. The knife slid easily from its hidden sheath, and in one swift movement Cain’s arm was gone, the First Blade clattering to the floor alongside the severed limb.

Dean stood on shaky legs as Cain cried out, staring at the place his arm had been. It had been a long time since he’d seen his own blood, and there was an oddly welcome sense of peace as he realized that, somehow, Dean had won. His now empty eyes followed Dean as he grabbed up the First Blade.

“What’s the matter?” Cain asked, dropping to his knees in defeat.

“Tell me I don’t have to do this. Tell me that you’ll stop. Tell me that you _can_ stop!” Cain almost laughed at the hunter’s begging. They both needed this. He wouldn’t tell Dean otherwise.

Maybe Dean could survive after all. Maybe Dean would do what Cain couldn’t, and beat the Mark once he was gone.  Cain’s only regret was not getting to see how it all played out in the end.

“I will _never_ stop.” Cain closed his eyes, welcoming the peace of death after a long, bloody, life.

Dean cried out in agony of his own as he plunged the blade down into the back of Cain’s neck, a surge of power racing through his arm and into his heart.

##  **__~*~__**

You sat completely still, straddling the dead body of a man who’d done nothing but try to help you. His soft cock had slipped out of you minutes ago, but you hadn’t moved. Your body was buzzing, power you didn’t understand ripping through flesh and into your soul.

There were no words to describe your emotions as you watched the blood flowing from Tex’s neck drizzle to a stop. You raised your right hand and were only mildly shocked to find the straight razor you’d bought clenched inside your shaking fist and coated with blood.

You’d killed him.

A sudden, random, fit of rage in the middle of an orgasm, and you’d killed him.

With a calm you didn’t feel inside, you removed yourself from his body and started cleaning. Somehow, you knew exactly what to do. It was automatic as you gathered a towel, soaked it with soap and water and cleaned his body anywhere your DNA would linger.

##  **__~*~__**

Dean’s hands shook as he handed the First Blade to a relieved Castiel. Crowley scowled at Dean’s blood spattered face.

“You lied to me.” Dean nodded with effort at Crowley’s betrayed tone.

“It’s not the first time today.” A sense of relief came over him at the feeling of telling Crowley the truth and showing him just exactly how the Winchester felt about him. “Cain’s list … you weren’t on it.”

In a blink Crowley and Castiel were gone, and Dean collapsed into Sam’s arms, exhausted beyond possibility as the rage from the Mark drained from him, leaving only her song softly tinkling in the back of his thoughts.

“Hey, hey, hey. You did it. Dean, you did it.” Dean closed his eyes at Sam’s words, wishing he could feel Sam’s relief. Wishing the darkness would stop trying to swallow him up.

##  **__~*~__**

Inside your head, you were screaming–panicking and raging–but outside, you moved with the precision of someone who had done this a dozen times before. Tex’s glassy eyes were locked to the ceiling, and you respectfully closed them before gathering the towels.

A dispassionate expression met you in the mirror along with pupils so large your eyes looked black, and you couldn’t figure out what was happening. You were in control, but you weren’t.

Your arm throbbed, a violent twitch rocking through it as your palm clenched around nothing even though it felt like the blade was still there. This felt like a nightmare, but you knew it wasn’t. Something terrible had happened to you, overcome who you were and made you into something new. Something you didn’t understand…

Maybe Dean would know.

You grabbed your things, Tex’s phone, and the trash bag of towels on your way out the door, and locked it behind you.

No one saw you slip into the night, and no one found Tex until the body started to stink.

##  **__~*~__**

“Dean, um, you know, what you did back there, it was incredible. You know, if you can do that without losing yourself…” Dean eyed Sam as he sipped his coffee feeling devoid of anything. Y/N’s face covered in blood was haunting him, and he couldn’t tell Sam or Castiel. They wouldn’t understand. They would lose the hope this event had given them. “…that’s cause for hope, even without a cure.” Dean smiled humorlessly.

“Yeah. Maybe.” His eyes shot to Castiel as the Angel entered. “So, where’s the Blade?”

“Somewhere safe,” Castiel said, knowing he couldn’t tell Dean. Not where the blade was, and certainly not the new information he had about Y/N.

“Good. Well, if you guys will excuse me, I think I’m gonna go sleep for about four days. Then, we find Y/N.” Dean patted Castiel’s shoulder as he walked by, not seeing the Angel’s concerned gaze.

“How is he?” Castiel asked once Dean was out of earshot. “Sam?”

“Cas…” Sam started, looking to his angelic friend with tears hiding behind his eyes. “Dean’s in trouble.”

“That’s not good…because I have news.”

“Not _good_ news, I take it?” Sam’s voice cracked as he dropped his head into his hands over his coffee.

“It’s not…Sam, I, um…I think Y/N killed someone.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.

“Didn’t we _just_ have a conversation about how you liking serial killers is weird?”

Sam rolled his eyes as he fixed his tie in the motel mirror. “I don’t _like_ serial killers, Dean. I just…like studying them. It’s an interesting statistical anomaly that–”

“Woah there, Einstein. You start talking statistics and I’m gonna take a nap.” Dean snagged Baby’s keys from the table and looked over at Sam. “I’ll be in the car when you’re finished primping.”

“I’m not–” Sam started, but the door slammed shut, cutting him off yet again. He rolled his eyes good naturedly, just glad that Dean seemed to be in better spirits knowing that Cas was actively searching for Y/N.

They still hadn’t told Dean what Cas knew, but he seemed to appreciate their new-found enthusiasm enough to agree to check out the Omega serial killer Sam had been following in Colorado. Dean had insisted it ‘wasn’t their kind of thing,’ because monsters didn’t take their time to mutilate their victims only to steal their eyelids before moving on–that was crazy human shit–but after a few days of nagging, he gave in.

Which led to now, with both Winchesters headed up to the police station to interview the sister of a missing Omega. The missing girl fit the victim profile, but normally a body would have been found by now.

Dean was sure it was unrelated, but the sheriffs were insistent that since she was an unmated Omega, they had to treat her case as if it were related to the others.

Sam dropped into the passenger seat of the Impala just as Dean started her up. The comforting purr of Baby’s engine always lulled Dean into a sense of peace he couldn’t find anywhere, especially now that the Mark was assaulting him with new and improved spats of unrest that tested his control in new ways.

“Alright so what are we lookin’ at, Sammy?” Sam pulled up his laptop and went through the case file again.

“Well, uh, the sister’s name is Lane, and Y/N has been missing for almost a week. They found her apartment all torn up. Lane is staying in town even though she lives two hours away so she’s agreed to come in and talk to us.”

“Y/N?” Dean asked, his gut twisting at the name. Sam’s eyes flicked to Dean’s hand tightening on the steering wheel.

“Yeah,” Sam replied softly, “Dean it’s probably not–”

“Yeah I know.” Dean brushed off what he knew Sam was going to say. It probably wasn’t his Y/N. That would be too much of a coincidence, even for their crazy life. “So what else?”

##  **__~*~__**

Tex had arranged to meet the witch somewhere on the Colorado Wyoming border, and you drove non-stop to get there. You had been in contact with her through Tex’s phone, and she seemed eager to meet you despite the weirdness of your request.

After assuring her that Tex had kept you safe and given you his phone as proof that he had sent you, she texted you an address.

Another handful of suppressants and Benadryl didn’t help the swelling in your arm or the cramps occasionally rolling through your body, but you chalked it up to lack of sleep. You hadn’t gotten one wink in since killing Tex, nor had you wanted to.

There was a pull guiding you to where you needed to go, and it wouldn’t let you rest until it was satisfied. Like some kind of psychic GPS it was leading you straight to Rowena, as she’d said her name was. The strong feeling made you wonder absently if she really _was_ a witch. If magic was real and this whole time you’d been living in a sweet bubble of normal life not knowing that the supernatural existed, what would that mean for your life? How had it found you  after twenty-odd years of boring normalcy? It all seemed too ridiculous, but then again you were certified crazy and officially a murderer but couldn’t bring yourself to care, what did you know?

Your fingers tapped on the steering wheel in time with the soft rock playing on your stereo, not a care in the world despite the growing pile of problems and  the blistered wound on your arm. You had a good feeling about this woman.

She had the answers you needed. You didn’t know, like everything these days, how or why you knew that, and the part of you that cared was slowly being replaced by the beast that had been shredding away all sense of who you were.

##  **__~*~__**

When Sam and Dean arrived at the station there was a small group of people waiting for them.

Three officers and two doctors were crowded around a crying woman Sam could only guess was Lane. The closer they got to the group, the stiffer Dean’s body went. Sam scented the air, but nothing seemed amiss despite the stomach churning mix of smells that accompanied places like this.

“Hello,” Sam said as the group glanced up, finally noticing their presence. The male doctor looked visibly uncomfortable as the Winchesters stepped close enough for their scent to carry. The female doctor, however, looked ravenous. Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, who was glaring openly, and without reason, at the male doctor. “We’re Agents Allman and Betts,” they flashed their badges before stuffing them back into their jackets, “We’re looking for an Officer Bishop?”

A sturdy looking officer stepped forward, removing his arm from around the crying woman. “That’s me.” He reached his hand out and Sam shook it, Dean seemed lost in his own world and missed the hand offered to him, looking as though he was trying to solve a particularly aggravating puzzle. Sam cleared his throat and Dean shook himself out of it, glancing suspiciously around the group.

“Are you Lane?” He managed to ask gently towards the only obvious civilian. She nodded, appearing to collect herself and step forward.

“Yes. T-Thank you for coming.”

“It’s not a problem Ma’am, we’re here to help.” Sam tried to smile reassuringly, and started to speak but he was cut off by the female doctor.

“Is there a reason the FBI stepped into this? Is it because you’ve read Y/N’s file? Because I didn’t authorize—”

“Woah woah woah,” Dean said quickly, shutting down her rant. “You mind telling us who you are? Actually, I’m gonna need each of you to provide identification before we discuss any specifics of the case.”

“And…” Sam glanced around, noticing the rising interest in their gathering. “We’re going to need somewhere more private. I think Lane here has had enough being ogled for one day.”

Bishop hopped into action, ushering everyone towards a back room with two couches. Sam let Dean, Bishop and Lane enter before stopping the two doctors and other three officers from going any further. He shut the door, separating the two groups. The officers took the hint and left, leaving only the doctors.

“Excuse me what do you think you’re doing?” the male doctor demanded.

“I need IDs. From both of you.”

“My name is Doctor Mara, and this is my colleague Doctor Cameron,” offered the female with a sultry smile. She produced her ID and piqued an eyebrow at the man beside her until he did the same. “I was the head of Y/N’s medical team while she was in our facility.”

“Your facility?”

“Yes, a psychiatric facility. With Y/N being a missing person of questionable mental integrity Lane called us in, hoping we could provide some help. I’m afraid, however, that a warrant will be necessary for you to access her files.”

She smelled like too-strong cinnamon as she stepped into Sam’s space. It was a seemingly innocent movement, but Sam knew she was trying to bully their way into the room behind him. Doctor Mara seemed like the kind of woman who was used to getting her way.

“Well Doctor, the warrant isn’t necessary in an active missing persons case because of relevant information that might lead to the victim’s whereabouts. I’m guessing you have the file on you or you wouldn’t have brought it up, so how about we cut the crap and you tell me what’s going on here? Since when do contracted psychiatrists make house calls to family members?”

“Y/N is a special case,” Doctor Cameron spat. He had decided he didn’t like the FBI Agents the second he scented them. The way they carried themselves and the way the shorter one smelled rankled him. He reeked of gunpowder and old leather–a combination that had been intolerable since Y/N had almost killed him.

Their attitudes didn’t help. Like all Federal Agents they thought they owned every piece of ground they walked on, he could see it plain as day.

“A special case?” Sam asked, waiting patiently and making it obvious they wouldn’t be going any further until they told him something worth knowing.

##  **__~*~__**

“Knowledge? Dearie, I know _everything_ worth knowing.” The red-headed woman with the thick Scottish accent was beautiful as she sipped her wine, looking other-worldly. You felt mildly self conscious sat at the same table, but mostly you were curious about her.

How did someone so gorgeous know someone like Tex? 

“Then you can help me find them?”

Rowena grimaced. Perpetually, the fucking Winchesters were a pain in her ass. Even hundreds of miles away she couldn’t escape them.

“Why d’you want the Winchesters? I can teach you everything you need to know. I can feel the magic wafting off of you, dear. You shouldn’t want them for anything. What is it? A spell?” Her eyebrow arched perfectly as you stared blankly at her, unsure of what to say. “For your heat, dearie. Doesn’t take a witch to smell that too.”

“You can do that? Take it away?” You voice lowered excitedly as you surveyed the room suspiciously, missing her comment about your magic.

“Of course! Didn’t Tex tell you who I am?” She seemed slightly offended, but you shrugged.

“No…I mean, nothing other than you being the most powerful witch he’d ever met.” He _hadn’t_ said that, but you had a feeling it was something she liked hearing.

“Well,” she gushed, feigning bashfulness, “he wasn’t lying there. I can do just about anything you need.” Rowena contemplated you for a moment before reaching some kind of decision. “Give me your hand.” She held hers out across the table, smiling encouragingly for you to do the same.

When you slid your arms across, your sleeve rolled up, revealing the rash on your arm. You didn’t miss the widening of her eyes as she spotted it, and you quickly covered it back up.

“No no no, love. Let me see.” Rowena caught your arm, her delicate fingers clasping you with a strength her petite frame hid well. You hissed when the fabric brushed against the raw flesh as she gently rolled your sleeve up. “Oh my,” she mused, taking in the oddly shaped blister on your arm.

It was raw and red, seeping where spots had popped. There were tinges of black beginning to vein out around the edges which usually meant infection…but you were sure that wasn’t the case here.

You could practically see the gears turning in her head as she examined you. The warmth of her touch was soothing and discomforting at once. 

Rowena knew more about you than you could ever imagined. She had divined your purpose right after talking to you for the first time and now, after touching you and the vicious curse on your arm, she understood your predicament fully.

Dean Winchester’s Omega had the Mark of Cain, just like her Alpha. It was an interesting development, one that Rowena knew she should be working in her favor, but she found herself feeling bad for you. She could see the black ooze overtaking your aura, smell the curse on you as surely as she could smell your heat, even with her Beta nose.

The power emanating from you had her wondering just how someone could acquire a curse in the way you had. Your personality was hidden under layers of desperation she didn’t think even you could see any longer, but she could tell you were an innocent buried under the blanket of evil the Mark had thrown over you.

She wanted to help, but as of yet the Winchesters were her enemies, and no matter how much she liked you, pride wouldn’t let her. Better to let the pains in her ass have a pain of their own.

“What?” You asked, suddenly worried as something flickered in her eyes. It was the first real emotion you’d felt since leaving Tex.

“Oh it’s nothing. Just…” her well manicured nails ghosted across your palm and she closed her eyes, feeling the magic there. “I can feel him. Your mate.”

You snatched your hand back, astounded. Maybe she really was magic after all.

“How do you know about Dean?” You hissed. Her smile was patient.

“Your body told me. And the magic. _He_ is the source of it.” Her smile formed into something more sinister as she continued, taking in your shock. “He’s there you know. I saw him when I touched your mark. He’s at your home, standing in your living room as we speak.”

##  **__~*~__**

Dean stared at the file, fighting the urge to vomit. Sam had strong-armed the doctors into giving up Y/N’s file while Dean had interviewed Lane. She hadn’t been able to offer much besides Y/N suffering from nightmares, being committed, and the strange turn of her personality. None of it seemed relevant to the serial killer, but his gut was telling him something he couldn’t understand.

The file was thicker than any patient file either brother had ever seen, and contained more than just the pictures Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from. It was a record of everything Y/N had said while interred, every procedure and every move she’d made, but Dean hadn’t made it past the pictures.

It was her.

She looked like shit in the first one, dark bags under her eyes, hair ratty and unkempt, her body swallowed up by an unflattering patient’s uniform. In the other she was smiling wide for the camera, lit up eyes sparkling out at him under perfectly styled hair. His finger traced longingly down the center of her happy face, wondering if being connected to him had done this to her.

“Dean? What’s going on?” Sam closed the door, leaving Officer Bishop to lead Lane to his car for the trip back to her hotel. Sam didn’t like the look on Dean’s face, at all.

“Sammy…” Dean started, his voice cracking as he laid the folder flat so they both could see. “It’s her…It’s…this is her.”

New panic was taking him over as he realized how close they had been, and now she was ripped from his grasp. “God Sammy, what if she’s…” he broke off, voice cracking and unable to form the words.

Sam wanted to object, but the pure emotion and certainty on Dean’s face stopped him.

Looked like his hunter senses had been more on point then expected.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Dean removed the pictures and handed Sam the file. There was one photo remaining Dean hadn’t seen, and Sam slipped it to the back of the pile before he could dwell too long on it.

The last thing he needed was to analyze the familiar looking rash.

The most recent files were on the top, and it only took three pages for Sam’s stomach to finish dropping to his feet. He swallowed thickly as he read the lines she had babbled while unconscious.

They were transcripts of Y/N’s last, and apparently most intense, episode. Behind those were the transcripts of her hypnosis session with…Doctor Cameron.

Sam’s head snapped towards the door, eyes narrowing as he tried to put all the pieces together. When he looked back at Dean, his brother hadn’t moved, still entranced in the glassy eyes staring up at him from the lifeless photo paper.

Turns out it was their kind of thing after all, and it was time to call Castiel.

##  **__**

Dean had Y/N’s picture safely tucked into his jacket the minute Castiel had convinced him to move from his stupor. Cops had watched warily as the terrifying Agent stomped his way through the precinct and slammed his way out the door, Castiel in tow. Sam had waved apologetically, hoping they wouldn’t attract too much more attention.

The ride was awkwardly silent.

Castiel revealed Y/N’s prayers and the life he thought she’d taken once they’d gotten into the car and Dean hadn’t said a word since. Dean’s pounding heart practically filled the empty space as he raced to the address they’d been given. Sam’s stomach felt like it had pushed up into his chest as Dean took a few rough corners, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Dean…”

“Shut up Cas.” Dean’s tone was shaky, but firm. No words would suffice now that he knew the truth of what Castiel had seen.

Dean was furious at both of them for so many reasons. A week. She’d been missing for a _week_. If they hadn’t searched so hard for Cain they might have found her before this.

As if sensing Dean’s thoughts, Sam’s were running along the same line. His guilt was compounding with every word he read from Y/N’s file. He turned another page.

From the looks of it, she’d been suffering a breakdown since Dean had taken on the Mark.

In the silence, all they could do was think. All they could do was ponder their mistakes and every sign they’d ignored.

Every time they’d brushed Dean off in favor of curing the Mark. They’d told themselves it was for Dean. It was for the greater good.

As Sam handed Cas the file, open to the pages where she had directly quoted Dean while he was being cured, he knew it was a lie.

##  **__**

Dean was tapping her song onto the steering wheel as he glared at Y/N’s apartment building. Sam had cleared his throat twice, but nothing was pulling Dean out of the car until he was ready.

Castiel had a habit of not realizing awkward situations, but this one was unavoidable. He knew finding Cain had been the right thing, but it didn’t feel like it at the moment. He exchanged a loaded glance with Sam in the rearview mirror that felt endless, their shared guilt simultaneously connecting them and separating them from Dean.

Then the driver door was flung open and Dean was gone. He was on the landing by the time Sam and Castiel entered the building, his head dropped against the door and eyes tightly closed as he inhaled the scent of death seeping thick though it.

Sam and Castiel smelled it too, and wondered what the police could have missed that was causing it. Dean’s hand hovered over the doorknob before he shoved it open, taking the crime scene tape with him when he stepped inside.

The smell of her was faint, it was obvious she hadn’t been there in a while, but it still smelled just like he expected–minus the rotting flesh somewhere in the apartment. His experienced eyes searched everything from the blood stains under his feet to the vomit stains by the couch.

The room was a disaster unlike anything he’d seen, but some part of him knew there hadn’t been a struggle. She’d done this herself.

His connection to her was singeing his arm, digging in and giving him flashes of emotion that came and went, flitting about like a hummingbird in search of nectar. His eyes followed the line of destruction until they found the room he was searching for. The one that contained her scent stronger than any other.

His feet were moving before he told them to, carrying him into what he discovered was her bedroom. Castiel and Sam hovered in the entryway surveying the damage as Dean had, but not seeing the pattern Dean had followed. Dean had no care for them as he stood just inside her door with his eyes closed, letting his nose and the Mark lead the way. He could hear them moving around despite the carpet muffling their steps.

“Get out!” He yelled suddenly. The feel of them inside her space was too much combined with the scent of Y/N, death, and the dozens of people that had traipsed through collecting evidence. Dean heard them stop then shuffle out the door. He waited until he heard the click before he really started searching.

The idiot officers couldn’t have used their noses because the scent of rot was strongest here. The knot headed alphas probably only scented her panty drawer, while the Betas probably hadn’t smelled anything besides the rotting flesh somewhere in the apartment.

Everyone was operating on the assumption that her body was hidden somewhere inside the apartment from the smell, but Dean’s instincts were telling him different. There was _something_ dead, but it wasn’t his Omega. The song playing in his head was evidence enough of that, but it didn’t mean she hadn’t been taken. Maybe the man she’d killed was the one who’d taken her…maybe she was on her way home.

Dean didn’t need to open any drawers considering they were all on the floor already. All but one.

His Alpha raged at seeing her panty drawer placed on the bed, two familiar Alpha scents lingering around it. They’d been at the police station.

There was only red as he grabbed the wooden drawer and slammed it into the wall. His chest heaved with the effort as he tried to control himself, forcing himself to remember that they hadn’t actually touched her. That crime was reserved for someone else. Someone who was possibly dead, and if they weren’t…they would be.

The Mark amplified his anger, but he was dealing with it better than anyone else would have. He caught a whiff of the death through the disturbed air and followed it to where the drawer had shattered against the wall.

Almost absently he grabbed a pair of her panties, barely a scrap of fabric, and tucked it into his pocket before moving the broken pieces of wood. Underneath, a small pile of books had been tossed just as carelessly as everything else around him.

“Sam!” He called, knowing they would come.

Everything in him knew what he was about to find, but he couldn’t believe it until he pulled the Bible from the bottom of the pile.

Dean almost gagged as his hand touched it, violent visions of sticking knives into innocent Omegas assaulting him.

“Dean?” Sam called from the doorway, knowing better than to step inside. His nose rankled as Dean crossed the room with the Holy book in hand. Castiel arrived just as Dean opened it to pages that were bulging the book out at the center.

The three men stared, disbelieving, at the Bible in Dean’s hands.

Castiel covered his mouth as realization set in, his eyes taking in the multitude of emotion the brothers were expressing.

Pressed between the pages, rotting, slick and wet, staining the pages black, were eight sets of dismembered eyelids. 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.

The smell of gasoline was overwhelming as you filled up the tank of your car for the third time. Since Rowena had sent you on your way with a knowing smile and a pat on the cheek, every sense seemed heightened, kicked up another notch and helping push you headlong into what was starting to feel less like a dream-state and more like an entirely different dimension.

The roads you traveled now were familiar, a path you’d driven a hundred times, and yet everything felt new. Different. The piney smells you’d always found soothing were pungent instead, the bright greens of the surrounding forests too sharp and the crunch of pine needles under your shoes too loud. It felt like you were treading muddy water, desperately trying to stay upright while the tide of darkness tried sweeping your feet from under you.

At the same time, you could feel the dispassion. A calm that even the strongest current couldn’t shake. You were on a mission. A shark who’d scented blood and was on the hunt.

The only coherent thought was getting home.

Getting to Dean.

Rowena hadn’t been lying about that much at least. You could feel his energy inside you, pulling you to him as surely as something had pulled you to Rowena, crawling over and under your skin like an angry colony of ants.

There was a sense of freedom on the road as you traveled, enhancing the strange calm, but every time you stopped it fell away, leaving only the roar of your impending collapse.

Despite the eddies of emotion, you wished you’d always lived like this. Even flying down the highway your eyes seemed to notice every beautiful detail you’d been deprived of while wrapped in a cocoon of normal, and it made you furious. It felt like you’d missed out on some great big party and only now was the door cracking open so you could catch a peek of the festivities. Being stuck in one place, trapped in a nine-to-five job and feeling like some school girl dreaming about your perfect Alpha was a hell you never wanted to go back to.

The job was gone, and your dreaming days were over. Your eyes were open, and nothing from before mattered. Once you had Dean, the shattered pieces of your life would fall back into place.

Wind coming in the open window whipped against your face, cooling your skin and keeping the urge to vomit at bay. So much medicine had been through your system lately your body was in shock, stuck between heat and fully shutting down, but something kept you going. 

Your arm throbbed almost in response to the thought. 

Absently, you wondered if Rowena had been right about the magic she’d made sure to mention without providing any real answers.

The woman was a mystery, but like everything else, she didn’t matter. Every tire rotation brought you closer to your goal, and your foot pressed harder into the gas pedal. Your fingers toyed with the small, burlap, bag she’d given you for protection. Twisting it around your fingers sent tingles up your spine, making you wonder if it was for your protection at all. There was a palpable field of energy surrounding it that didn’t feel friendly.

At the next rest stop, you chucked it into the trash can. You were only a few hours from home and feeling stronger than you’d ever felt in your life, you didn’t need protecting.

##  **__~*~__**

Dean had gotten his own motel room after visiting Y/N’s apartment, unable to stomach looking at his brother and friend. He spent the night tossing and turning, the sleep he desperately needed refusing to stick around for long. During the short spurts of unconsciousness he was tortured with visions. He kept seeing _himself_ as the one poking bloody holes and slicing up innocent Omegas, _his_ hands were the ones smoothing their hair almost affectionately, _his_ voice was cooing soft words so contradictory to the pain he was inflicting, _his_ fingers delicately pulling open the sticky pages of an old family bible to store the bloody souvenirs.

_Saving them,_ velvet shadows crusted in blood whispered from the back of his mind, _you’re saving them. You’re opening their eyes. Letting them see the truth.  
_

Every time he jerked awake the Mark flared and the visions lingered. In those fleeting moments he forgot it was not him committing these crimes, it was his Omega. Fueled by the Mark and twisted into a shell of her former self. When coherence returned he did remember. He remembered that it was still his fault. 

Her mysterious connection to him was the cause, and she’d been thrust into the world of the supernatural, unaware and beyond unprepared to deal with the shared darkness raging inside them.

The guilt was a living creature as Dean left the bed and paced the room, alternating between reading pages of her file as he walked and sitting to take long pulls from the bottle of Whiskey sitting on the table. He stared at the pictures of her as he drank. He’d left them splayed out and scattered around the table, just like the two of them. When he was finally drunk enough to lay back down, he pulled Y/N’s balled up shirt from underneath the covers and tucked it close.

Dean woke again after a few hours, his body a raging storm of hormones.  The sun was barely seeping through the curtains and the room was cool, but a thick layer of sweat coated his mostly naked skin, and cold chills rolled violently from head to toe. Her shirt was draped across his face from where he’d fallen asleep desperately inhaling her scent.

Dean cursed inwardly. He should have known better.

Through the fog, he moved her shirt and stripped off his boxers before stuffing his hand under the pillow. Dean’s fingers sought out the soft fabric of her panties bundled beside his gun and pulled them out. The silk was cool and refreshing against his heated skin. Dean inhaled her clean scent as one hand brought the sheen fabric to his nose while the other trailed down his chest and abdomen to seek out his painfully hard cock. His thumb traced the mushroomed head, swollen, purple, and leaking with his need for her.

His cock jumped at the soft touch and he groaned, unable to stop his hips from flexing.

After rearranging himself against the pillows, Dean wrapped the silk around his cock and held it in place at the base. His fingers dug in through the silk, teasing the sensitive juncture just below his swelling knot. The fabric desensitized him enough to wrap his palm around the thick shaft and give it a languid pump. He did it again and again until his head fell back heavily into the wall, his eyes closing as he got lost in the sweet sensation of his tightening grip.

Taking her clothes had been questionable at the time, but now Dean was thankful he had them. Y/N’s scent may have sent him into an early rut, but they were hard proof that he wasn’t far from her.

He was picturing her smile as his hand worked, imagining how pretty her mouth would look wrapped around his cock, how soft her skin would be under his fingers and how sweet her voice would sound begging for his knot.

The silk was better than any lube as he sped his fist up, bucking up into it as his fingers twisted circles that tugged his balls up and ground against his knot.

##  **__~*~__**

The urge to pee had overtaken the hunger for snacks on your way into the convenience store, so you were in the bathroom when it hit.

The cramp came from nowhere and doubled you over, dropping you quickly to your knees. A thick gasp echoed around the stone room as a tingle stole over your clit and sank deep into your abdomen. Your hand shoved it’s way into the pajama pants you were still wearing, seeking relief of any kind. Two fingers sank knuckle deep into the slick that had gathered, and immediately you were pumping them against the trembling walls of your pussy, searching out your g-spot. Your palm smeared slick over your aching clit as another cramp rattled your teeth, the pressure blooming quickly into splintered pleasure. Hips bucking, you pressed and moaned until your walls finally fluttered and clamped down around your fingers.

You rode your own hand as aftershocks zipped through every nerve. When it was over finally you collapsed to the filthy floor, exhausted and confused.

##  **__~*~__**

Dean’s breathing was staccato as he pumped his fist to a furious crescendo, his body flushed and sweating, legs squirming and feet digging into the sheets until his knot popped and he came with a loud cry. Trapped between the silk and his pulsing cock his cum flooded out, squelching through the fabric as he kept moving his hand until he couldn’t take it any longer.

##  **__~*~__**

“You said we couldn’t trust them, then turned around and gave them Y/N’s file without a warrant!”

Doctor Mara rolled her eyes as Doctor Cameron shoved a cup of coffee at her before stomping over to the bar of their two-bedroom hotel suite. This was the same argument they’d had multiple times since she’d handed the file over to the youngest Winchester, and she was just about done with the entire charade. Months of planning had come and gone and she was anxious to see the rest of her plan through.

“Yes. I did. They’re FBI, Cameron. We didn’t have a choice.”

“Like hell we didn’t! And what if they find her before we do? Hmm? What then? Everything will be ruined. All our data lost! Tainted!” He slammed two mini-shot bottles and clenched his fist. “They’ll take her to some government facility and drug her up and all of our work will have been for nothing!”

“Cameron!” The cold eyed woman snapped, finally tired of his jabbering. “They will not find her. What’s happening to Y/N will lead her right back to us, just in time for the next phase.”

The hypnotist glared at her incredulously, unable to fathom her reasoning, or how she was sitting so calmly in that hotel robe while the FBI stole their patient, and with her, every viable option for future research.

“How can you possibly know that? She’s missing! What if the cops are right? What if she’s already dead? _Then_ where’s my rare case and my fucking book?” Doctor Mara rounded the bar where Doctor Cameron was pounding more shots. Her delicate hand came to rest on his own, her thin fingers wrapping his wrist like a creeping vine. His eyes searched hers as her grip tightened with a strength that surprised him.

Her voice was a growl as she spoke, spooking Cameron into silence. “I don’t care about your god-damned book. She is _not_ dead, because her body would have been found already you moron! She will come because the connection to her Alpha demands it. That’s why.”  

“Her Alpha? What the hell are you–” Long nails slashed into Doctor Cameron’s wrist, and he tried to wrench away from the suddenly terrifying woman to no avail. 

“The Winchesters are not FBI you little shit, and I’m tired of hearing your whiny voice. Fuck the research. Fuck your book. Shut up, before I make you.” When her eyes flashed black, Doctor Cameron screamed, renewing his efforts to escape Doctor Mara’s grasp. Annoyed with the squirming man, Doctor Mara shoved him away. His head hit the wall with a thunderous crack, and he collapsed to the floor.

She didn’t need to check for a pulse, the perks of being a demon meant she could hear his weak heartbeat and feel the pulse of his tainted soul. The demon didn’t need him any longer… not with Y/N on her way to Dean.

The Winchester had stolen darkness not meant for him and murdered the Queen of Hell with it. The demon would see _his_ queen murdered in return. Y/N’s soul was already corrupted, damned to hell alongside Dean Winchester the instant Doctor Mara had fully unlocked their connection through Cameron’s hypnosis.

She sipped the lukewarm coffee with a grin, feeling smug. The intended transformation was almost complete. Poor little Y/N, ripped apart on the inside by things she would never comprehend, and soon, ripped apart on the outside as well. Hopefully by her own mate. 

What a show.

##  **__~*~__**

The sun was going down when you finally pulled into your apartment complex. 

Your sweaty hands were searching out the prescription bottles the minute you threw the car in park, and you started to shake when you realized they were empty.

_Fuck._ Were there more inside?

You cautiously peered around the parking lot. Nothing seemed amiss, but there was a foreboding feeling stealing away the dispassion and replacing it with panic. 

Then you noticed Lane’s car parked next to your spot.

_Double fuck._

You debated leaving. Just turning around and driving until you couldn’t see straight, but an image flashed into your mind and wouldn’t leave.

Dean and Lane, standing together in your apartment.

Dean. Your Alpha. 

Lane the perfect wife. 

Lane, the perfect mother…a better Omega than you could ever be.

Lane, the traitorous bitch, offering Dean everything you couldn’t. 

How _dare_ she.

Everything was red as you fled the car, deliriously stomping your way up the stairs with murder in your heart. Halfway up a cramp brought you down, your involuntary scream echoing through the hallways. You could see your door as  your fingers clutched into the ratty carpet fighting to crawl the remaining few steps to the landing.

The door flung open, and out stepped a disheveled Lane. Her hair was a mess, her face red and swollen.

In the back of your mind you knew it was probably from crying or worry, but the rash on your arm was pulsing wildly, drowning out the logical thoughts struggling to the surface. Black streaks undulated from the center of the Mark, driving the darkness deeper into your heart.

_Dean is in there with her,_ it whispered vehemently. _She’s fucking your Alpha. Traitor. Whore. Weak willed woman in desperate need of a strong man. She should die._

Lane cried your name over and over as tears of relief and happiness started to flow, completely missing the violent growl directed at her. Before you could react, her arms were under yours, helping you stand and maneuvering you into your apartment.

His scent was everywhere, mingling unpleasantly with hers. You shoved her away to rush into the living room.You couldn’t smell yourself anymore, and the smell of death was only faint now, barely a whisper among the other unfamiliar scents. Your mind registered these things but did not latch onto them. Only one thing had your focus.

Dean.

Every heartbeat was the pulse of his name in your veins, the smell of him different than in your dreams and diluted by time yet unmistakable. Your drive to find him had you staggering to the couch before you realized his scent wasn’t there. 

He was here. He had to be. You changed directions and headed down the small hallway. Discovering your empty room brought forth a scream of rage just as Lane stepped in behind you.

“Y/N…” Her voice was soft, but echoed in the emptiness of your heart as you whipped around to face her.

Lane gasped when your eyes connected with hers. Your pupils had stolen all the space within, making her reel back. She thought you’d gone feral, and her heart clenched with anguish. “Oh shit…Y/N, it’s me…It’s Lane, your sister.”

“I know who you are, _whore_.” You spat, snarling as you took a step closer. The anger was pulsing deeper with every inhale of your Alpha’s scent; your temperature rising every moment he wasn’t touching you.

You were fighting two urges at once, unsure of which to address. There was the urge to find Dean, and the urge to see your forearm drenched in Lane’s blood. You wanted to shove your hand so deep into her chest you brought her heart out the other side and then rip it back through to show it to her before she died. You wanted to toss her broken body down the stairs and resume the hunt for Dean.

You did neither as your heat finally consumed you, full blown and aching for something that was too far away. The cramps were constant now, sweat rolling from every pore as you collapsed under the weight of the Mark and your heat.

Lane watched in horror as you reached for her, the rash on your arm a twisted rainbow of infection and your eyes blazing with emotions she hadn’t seen before. You fell unconscious after snarling at her one final time.

##  **__~*~__**

Dean was in the shower when Sam started pounding on the door. Sam could smell Dean’s rut, and was frantic in his knocking.

“Dean!”

Dean growled as he yanked the knob to turn off the water, breaking it on the way down.

“Fuck off Sam!”

The knocking increased. “Dean! It’s Y/N! She’s home! Lane just called and…” Sam stopped speaking when the door flew open. His nose rankled at the scent of his brother’s activities but he kept quiet. Dean was soaked but flinging his clothes on faster than Sam had ever seen, and suddenly the car keys were flying at his face.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s go!” Dean shouted, spurring Sam into action.

Within moments, Dean was hopping into the passenger seat, his eyes wide and the Mark burning.

Sam floored the gas, speeding through the nighttime traffic, ignoring street signs and stop lights. He knew Dean wouldn’t stand for any delay in his condition. Sam skidded into a spot as close to Y/N’s apartment as he could get, but before the car completely stopped Dean was racing up the steps.

“Dean!” Sam called, but Dean was ignorant to anything but getting to Y/N.

Instead of his Omega, he found Lane crying at the top of the stairs.

“Where is she?” Lane flinched at the belligerent tone but recognized it for what it was.

Panic.

She wondered briefly why an FBI agent would be reacting so strongly to her sister, but weakly pointed at the door. Dean rushed inside, following the scent of Y/N’s heat and abandoning Lane to her grief.

## __

Sam trotted up the steps and stopped when he reached Lane. She didn’t flinch when he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, but neither did she stop crying. “What happened to her?” A sob racked her chest as Sam pulled her in, wrapping her tightly in his arms.

“I don’t know,” he lied smoothly, “but we’re gonna find out. We’re gonna help her, okay?” He waited for her nod into his chest before pulling her gently away and looking into her watery eyes. “I know it’s hard…but I need you to tell me what happened here.”

“Where is she?” Came Dean’s roar, interrupting the conversation before it began and sending Lane back into Sam’s arms in terror.

“Dean what’re you–”

“She’s gone! I can smell her but she’s gone!”

Lane whimpered, “She was just here I…”

“Why would she leave? Don’t lie to me!” Dean howled, snatching Lane up and shaking her until Sam pulled him off.

“Dean! You _know_ what’s happening to her because it’s happening to you. Where do _you_ think she is?”  

Dean’s chest was heaving as he glared around Sam at Lane. He had an unexplained and sudden hatred for her that made him want to kill her as surely as if she were a monster. She wasn’t, however, he forced himself to remember. She was human. His mind swirled with the violence the Mark was craving, thoughts tinged in red and black as he fought to stay level headed. Her song taunted him, the soft notes floating across his senses alongside her fresh scent.

He snatched the keys and flung himself away from Sam, heading back down the stairs at a run.

“I’ll take you back to your hotel.” Sam whispered.

“She’s my sister…” 

“I’m sorry for all this, but you need to be out of the way for this part, okay?”

Lane nodded dumbly as Sam led her to her own car, the roar of the Impala fading into the night.

##  **__~*~__**

Your feet ached as you stalked down the sidewalks in the dark. You’d left your car in front of a random grocery store after jumping out of your second floor window. Consciously, you knew something was wrong. A jump like that should have at least slowed you down, but it it hadn’t. You’d been in your car and gone gone before Lane had stepped onto the landing to give you your space. Disappearing into the night was a glaring symptom of exactly how wrong everything was, but something had been wrong for going on a year now, and no one had been able to help you. 

You thought you were hunting Dean when you’d first set out, your heat addled brain leading the way towards relief. Instead, as the scent of him faded something else replaced it. Something dark. The same something that had been writhing in your mind and body, forcing it’s way upwards while forcing you down. The same something that was on your arm. You knew that now. The darkness was speaking to you directly, as if it had a mind of its own, but it was using your voice.

_Weak. They’re all weak. You were weak. Not anymore. Save them. You know how. You’ve always known.  
_

You passed the park, multiple stores and not a few suburbs before finding your way to the woods. It was a small patch, surrounded on all sides by the downtown strips. Your worn shoes crunched angrily through the debris until you reached the spot you were looking for.

##  **__~*~__**

Dean didn’t need anyone to tell him where she’d gone. The Mark was raging, his rut acting as a compass now that he had the scent so fresh in his nose.

He sped through the empty streets as Sam had, ignoring all safety and stop lights on his way downtown.

##  **__~*~__**

The Omega in you was howling for release, but the darkness in you howled for something else altogether.

As you watched, a young Omega left The Club across from you, alone. She tossed her hair, revealing her clean neck, and a malicious grin split your ragged features. She was so much like the first one.

She was _perfect_.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.

The demon residing within Doctor Mara chuckled as you began to work, stalking your prey with a terrifying focus that surpassed expectations. Catching the girl had been too easy.

You’d walked right up to her and started a conversation like you weren’t a hot mess and convinced her to help you at your car, conveniently located in the deserted parking lot across the street. Maybe being a hot mess had helped sell it, but you weren’t in any condition to question the easy prey.

They’d all been easy, so trusting of a fellow Omega. The memories came easily now, no longer hidden because the darkness wanted you to see what you’d done. You were ready, properly soiled and prepared to leave the bloody nest.

Mara watched from far away, no longer bothering to hide behind a doctor’s uniform. She’d dressed for the occasion, a relaxed pair of jeans and a tight shirt that broadcast how very different she was from her uptight meatsuit. Her demonic sight allowed her to see the moment you’d fisted your hand in the Omega’s hair and kicked her heeled feet from underneath her, bringing her easily to the ground. The Omega’s face smashed into the rocky asphalt, blood welling from the multitude of tiny scrapes. You grinned and pressed your hand to her cheek, adding some of your body weight to smash her harder against the rocks. Her cries appeased the monster in your head, had it purring contentedly as you created the pain it sought.  Your arm pulsed angrily as the tendons stretched with the effort of holding the girl down.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” You purred, straddling her back to feel her body squirming beneath you. She quickly realized your strength was something she couldn’t fight and she stilled, hoping that cooperation would get her out of this alive.

“C–Carrie,” the girl was able to choke out. Your weight on her back was making breathing difficult and she prayed whatever was happening would end soon. “W–What do you w–want?” Her tears flowed freely as she relaxed to the pavement with your lack of an answer, her submissive side giving in to the obviously stronger personality.

Mara let her hands wander her body as she watched you, so in control of the situation. So dark. The girl had stopped squirming and it seemed you didn’t like that from the frown on your face. The demon knew what was coming next as your blade flashed in the street light and sliced slowly across Carrie’s exposed cheek.

Distantly, the sound of an engine roaring cut through the generic city soundtrack and annoying Mara. She knew the sound as well as any demon.The Omega cried out as her skin split, the sound drowning out all others as warm blood oozed from the cut and trailed across her nose and lips. Quite a show indeed.

“Please, don’t…I won’t tell anyone…”

“No, Carrie, you won’t,” you giggled lightly, ignoring the cramps clenching through your body in favor of focusing on the pleasant buzz humming from your arm. You sensed the demon approaching as you flipped the Omega over, but paid her no mind. Her smugness was an aura surrounding her, calling out to you, just begging to be snuffed out. 

You would deal with that liar later. She thought she’d won, thought she’d ruined you. She was wrong, she’d made you better, but you could let her believe her own lies for a while longer.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word,” your voice chimed pleasantly as you used the knife to cut down the front of her tight shirt in an effort to get at the Omega’s skin. Your eyes dared the dark creature to make a move as she stopped just short of where you could reach her.

“Stop, p-please I–” you cut off Carrie’s words with a fist to the throat, earning a satisfying gargle as she struggled to breathe and a satisfied laugh from Mara.

“Do you like the makeover I gave you, Y/N?”

“Fuck you, Mara.” You quipped before grinning up at her. “But thank you. You mind telling me what this is all about though? I’m a bit busy.”

You turned back to Carrie and realized you didn’t have the same knife you’d used on all the other girls. You frowned, disappointed you wouldn’t be able to decorate properly before saving her from the hell of her life. 

_Oh well,_ you thought. _Still gonna have some fun before ripping into this bitch._

Nothing in you thought this was wrong anymore. The only thing you could see was the red of Omega blood and the black tinting every thought you had.

“Hmm…I just really like watching a good plan play itself out.” The wind whipped Mara’s hair around her face and she swatted at it in annoyance. “Don’t mind me.”

Her dismissal was light, and you reminded yourself that nothing she had to say mattered. You were free now. Free to do as you chose and free to share that gift. Why was this Omega still crying? The pain you had inflicted so far was nothing compared to the pain of being alone.

“How about I give you something to really cry about, hmm?” The straight edged blade connected with the flesh over her lowest left rib, ready to slice her wide open and give you a chance to show her the beating of her own heart. You wanted to go slow, but something told you that you were running out of time. 

Carrie would have to go quickly.

Your head snapped up halfway through the cut as a car swung into the parking-lot, skidding to a stop over the blood stains of the last Omega you’d killed here. You briefly noted Mara had disappeared, but a small smile quirked the side of your mouth as the memories of that first night flooded in. The first kill. How satisfying it had been to drain her life away and let the first broken slice of your humanity slip away with it. The darkness had taken a life of it’s own inside you since then…it had become you.

You recognized the sound of the engine as the one that had been roaring through the night, but as the door swung open and a man stepped out, a whole new sense of recognition burned through you.

“Fucking Winchesters,” Mara snarled from afar as you rose cautiously from the body beneath you. As you stepped closer to the man, the Omega on the ground took advantage of the distraction. She struggled to her feet and began to run, but didn’t get far before the inhumanly strong Doctor appeared and hauled her struggling form back to the ground. “Hush, girl. I wanna watch the show.” Black eyes were the last thing the Omega saw before she was knocked unconscious.

“Omega.” Dean’s voice cracked as he rounded the car to take in your crazed expression and the bloody knife in your hand. “It’s over.” He stopped just beside Baby’s headlight, hoping to lead you away from your victim as she ran. He wanted to make sure she was okay as she disappeared into the darkness, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Alpha?” You questioned, chest heaving with anticipation. You wondered if you were dreaming again as the world fell away at the sound of his voice. Carrie wasn’t a whisper of thought as the wind shifted, bathing you in his scent.

The same scent from your apartment.

Dean. 

He was here.

He was real.

Like a wild animal you ran at him, closing the distance in record time to jump into his waiting arms. When you crashed your mouth to his he immediately took control, meeting your ravenous tongue with his own as you clattered your teeth against his in your battle for dominance. He felt like heaven, and home, and completion, as his arms caught your waist to hold you tightly against him. Without missing a beat he spun you around and slammed your back onto Baby’s hood. “‘Mega,” he growled reverently against your lips as the noise in his mind quieted at your touch. “Lookin’ for you everywhere.” He ground his hips against yours as his rut demanded more contact. More proof. “Got you now, gonna be okay.” His hands cupped your face as he pulled back long enough to catch a glimpse of you up-close. The gold speckles marring the perfect green of his eyes drew you in and grounded you, calming the raging storm within for a split second. When he brought his mouth back to yours you whimpered, happily giving over control of the kiss. His hips rutted his painfully hard cock against you again as your hands clutched at his hair, his neck and his back, searching for the healing skin that would cool your heated body.

You were shoving his jacket off when the sound of a throat clearing broke Dean out of his haze. When he pulled back you snarled angrily, clutching at his shoulders to bring him back to you. With one hand Dean roughly shoved you back down to the hood, his voice like crunching gravel as he spoke. “Stay, ‘Mega.”

Dean held steady as he glared into your mostly black eyes, waiting to see if you would obey. A pathetic whine escaped as you rolled your hips into his, but otherwise remained still.

“Dean,” came the level voice that matched the throat clear. Your eyes snapped to the strange man wearing a trench-coat. His body was shimmering, wavering and glittering in the strangest way.  In that moment it fully clicked that magic, real life magic, existed, and this creature was made of it.

“Cas,” Dean replied stoically, restraint evident in his tone, and his eyes almost vacant as he fought the urge to take your squirming body right there on the hood of his car.

“Dean you can’t do this here.”

Lane’s car came skidding into the lot, stopping with a jerk beside the Impala and stealing everyone’s attention.

“Dean!” Came Sam’s frantic shout as he jumped from the car, and you tried to scramble up to attack him as he came close. You remembered him with the needle; how he’d shot you up with poisonous blood.

“Stop!” Snapped Dean as you moved, earning a lusty moan from you as his dominance was exerted once again. Your Omega purred at being put in her place by the strong Alpha, and you stilled. Your body was pulsing, crying out for him, but you’d been given an order and fuck if it didn’t feel good to have him pressed against you for real.

“Dean, we have to take her and get out of here.”

“Sam is right,” replied the strange being.

“What are you?” You finally managed through the haze.

“He’s an angel now everyone shut up so I can think!” Dean’s roar brought the desired result until a rustling from the woods closest to the gathering drew every eye.

“Well, well…looks like the Winchesters showed up to save the day, like always.”

“What is this, a party?” Dean asked, “What the hell are you doing here? What the hell are you wearing?” He shared a quick look with Sam as he realized that in addition to looking nothing like she had when they’d met, the doctor had no business knowing who they were. Your brow furrowed as you took in the sight of the creature-not-Mara carrying the Omega you’d been carving up. Bloodlust welled up again, replacing the lust of your heat. Dean’s distraction had loosened his grip enough for you to escape, but it wasn’t Sam you were after when you lunged.

“She’s mine!” You snapped, barely getting away before Dean grabbed your waist. He pulled your back to his chest as you struggled to get at Doctor Mara, who’s eyes were now inky-black pools of evil.

“I don’t think so, Y/N. You let her go. I think she’s mine now.”

An inhuman screech wrenched free from your chest as you fought your Alpha, suddenly desperate again for the girl’s blood. “Mine, mine, mine, mine!”

Mara’s chuckle was thick as she dropped the bloody Omega to the ground, the crumpled form staying limp as her head bounced on the concrete.

“So an Angel, a Demon, two brothers and a murderous Omega walk into a bar…”

“Screw you, hell-bitch,” Dean growled. He heard Sam cock his gun and knew he would be aiming it at the Doctor’s head. “I’m not gonna ask you again, what are you doing here?”

“A gun, Winchester?” Mara chuckled, shifting her attention around the small gathering, unaware of the danger hidden on the tip of the chambered bullet. She thought Castiel was the biggest threat, but she was wrong. “You should know better. Then again…” Her heeled shoe nudged at the unconscious woman tauntingly, renewing your efforts against Dean. “…I thought the three of you would have figured it all out much sooner. Guess I gave you too much credit. You are just a bunch of knot-headed Alphas after all.”

“Sam I gotta…” Dean grunted, his cock hardening all over again as your ass raked across his jeans.

“I know Dean. Go. Cas and I got this.”

“Mine!” You howled, clawing at Dean’s arms.

Foolishly, the demon stayed in place when Sam fired the gun. She took the hit, laughing cruelly. “You want her Y/N? I’m gonna kill her if you don’t. Her soul will belong to me. You want that?”

Her taunts sent you over the edge, giving you a burst of strength to break free from Dean and run for the body on the ground. Your soul. Not hers. The demon twitched in an effort to catch you before you made it, but found herself stuck.

“What?” Her eyes flashed black again as she leveled her glare on Sam, snarling furiously. “What did you do?!”

Dean’s arms were around your waist for the third time as he snatched you up inches from the forgotten and bloody knife. He dragged you kicking and screaming away from your would-be victim. Trapped in your rage, you swung around and punched Dean square in the jaw. He was sent reeling back as the demon laughed at the spectacle despite her predicament, but he held his hand out to Sam and Castiel who had started toward you.

“I got this,” he grunted as you slammed into his chest and sent him sprawling to the pavement. Half of your furious punches landed as you mounted his chest, and he felt the bruises forming on his collarbone and cheeks. “Y/N! ‘Mega! Stop!” Dean cried, fending off your attacks and hoping his voice would snap you out of it, but it didn’t. ” You shrieked and pummeled him harder until his hands caught your wrists and he used the momentum to flip you over. You saw stars as your head cracked into the hard pavement, but nothing seemed to slow the blazing rage in control of you.

With his weight pressing into you and his thigh situated between your legs your angry writhing under him quickly turned sexual. You could smell his arousal and feel his hard cock pressing against your clothed core. Your hips bucked insistently, slick pooling and soaking your panties as your biological needs overtook your frenzy. Dean clenched his jaw as he fought to keep you still while the smell of you threatened to drive him just as crazy as you.

The feel of your skin under his was electric, and the Mark was howling in victory. He knew you were feeling it too when your grunts turned to desperate mewls of his name.

“Cas…” He grunted, motioning to the girl on the ground, and the Angel immediately understood what he wanted.

The girl’s life saved, and her memory wiped. 

She couldn’t be left to remember you as her attacker. Dean was in damage control mode, already wondering how he was going to keep the world from finding out it was you who’d killed all those innocents.

Dean could barely hold himself in check as he pulled away. With all the strength he could muster he hauled you, still squirming, into the back seat of his car where the doors were locked from the outside. You struggled against unforgiving metal at the forced separation as the door slammed shut in your face while Dean struggled against his rut begging him to jump inside with you and fuck you senseless.

Your body was calling out to his Alpha even from inside the car, your scent curling around his logical side and testing his limits as you kicked and threw yourself around the back of his car.

Your bodies were begging him to take you now.

Begging him to make you his before you were both lost.

He knew he needed to take you and leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so without a little revenge on something, and he was starting to feel like the black-eyed doctor was the reason for your condition. Why else would she be there? How else could she have known?

“You were her doctor the whole time?” Sam asked, his eyes locked to the happy demon as Castiel watched Dean. The older hunter moved to the back of the Impala instead of waiting for the answer to his brother’s question, everyone studiously ignoring the screeching and pounding coming from you in the back seat. They would deal with you soon enough.

“No. Mara was her doctor. I’m a fucking demon. You like what I did to your Omega, Winchester? She’s perfect for you now.” Dean’s rummaging ceased for a moment, but quickly resumed until he found the knife he was looking for.

“Why?” Sam asked, not really expecting an answer but needing to ask anyways.

“For my Queen, for Abaddon. You killed her and now you’ll have to kill Y/N. Wait…If you do, who’s to say she won’t just come back on my side of the fence like Dean did?” The demon’s confident smile made Sam’s blood run cold. Dean had been right all along. “She’s already on her way. You see those eyes?” The demon let out a long, cocky, whistle. “Woo! She’s gonna be so much fun.”

Sam’s mind was reeling. This had happened to you because of them. Another innocent in a long list of victims caught in the supernatural crossfire. 

Dean rounded back to face the demon who’d ruined multiple lives and ended even more with her scheming. Abaddon was still ruining his life, even boxed in pieces and scattered.

“I think a more important question is what, Sammy.” Dean’s body was radiating enough heat that the air around him shimmered and the demon felt doubt for the first time. She’d been sure she would get out of this, but now, standing face to face with a former Knight of Hell, close enough to feel the waves of nauseating evil directed at her, she wondered about the intelligence of the plan in relation to her lifespan.

Vindicating Abaddon by killing the man who’d taken her out was supposed to end in victory. Not the demon’s own capture.

Both Sam and Dean noticed the moment Mara knew she was done, and the older Winchester jumped at the chance to properly interrogate the architect of such cruelty. He stepped close, holding the blade so she could see the markings on the smooth surface and understand how close to death she was.

“Tell me. What you did to her.” In another context Dean’s deadly voice would have turned her on as much as watching you torture the Omega had been, but this context held her death within its grasp. After hundreds of years of existence, the thought of ceasing to exist was repulsive.

“Let me go and I’ll tell you.”

“I don’t think so.” The knife cut just behind her right ear and started a slow drag to under her chin. Bright orange light flared and the demon screamed.

“Fuck!”

“Tell me.” Dean’s low voice was barely heard over your shrieks, but the demon answered.

“Fine! I amplified your connection!”

“What? How?” Demanded Sam.

Castiel moved closer to the door of the Impala before appearing beside you, leaving Sam with his gun trained on the stuck demon as she spilled all her secrets to Dean.

The shock of Castiel’s disappearance and reappearance rendered you silent finally, distracting you from your Alpha as he moved back towards the doctor, who apparently wasn’t your doctor. Nothing was as it seemed these days.

Just like your Alpha, who had apparently died but wasn’t dead.

The world seemed awful confusing if you took a second to look at it, but the darkness swallowed it up and replaced it once again with the urge to draw blood. Your eyes landed on the glittering creature beside you. Castiel saw your intentions and shook his head. 

“I wouldn’t do that.” The  blue eyes searched your black ones as your attention shifted fully to him, just as he’d hoped.

“Y/N…” he started tentatively. “My name is Castiel.” You blinked in response before hissing as your arm throbbed. “May I?”

Your heart was screaming no, but the real you, the one trapped deep inside your own head, was begging you to obey.

This man was an Angel. Your Alpha said so. _Trust him_ , your instincts whispered, even as your body raged against the idea. Your head turned just in time to see Dean plunge a blade into the chest of the demon, orange sparks flickering through Mara’s head as she collapsed in a grand fashion.

The demon who’d done this to you was dead…but the problem she’d created was still very much alive. Though it didn’t feel like a problem other than the fact that the urges inside of you weren’t being satisfied. Castiel took your arm without prompting, holding it steady as you tried to snatch it away.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m going to help you.” Words of a nasty response died in your throat as his hand closed over the rash. Between your skin and his, a brilliant blue light flared, sending ice through your veins as the oozing flesh knit back together.

It seemed he was doing something else as well when your body suddenly dropped against the cool leather of the seat, unable to hold itself upright any longer.

You felt your breathing increase as the inside of the car seemed to shrink, heat pulsing and writhing within you until it felt like you’d explode. The Mark was burning as he removed his hand, but the sleep that had eluded you for so long was fast taking over, making all thought pointless.

Sam and Dean watched the proceedings from the window until they heard the Omega stirring on the ground. Sam was at her side in an instant, his large shoulder soaking up her frightened tears as he gathered her small body into his arms and cradled her like a child.

“We did it, Dean.” Sam tried to smile as Dean turned from sight of your unconscious body, a defeated look in his eyes. His thoughts were trained on you even as he observed the damage you’d wrought. He wanted to feel for the girl, but all he could see was his tortured Omega. The one who’d been broken, possibly beyond repair, because of a connection to him.

As Sam cooed gently to the girl Dean wondered how the demon had found you. How she’d known you were his when he hadn’t. Watching Sam and your would-be victim, Dean decided it was a problem for another time. The damage was done.

“Did we, Sam?”

The younger Winchester’s shoulders slumped, realizing that Dean wouldn’t allow himself the smallest victory.

Castiel appeared at Dean’s side, his hand coming to rest on the hunter’s shoulder. Dean looked hopefully from Castiel to you and back, but Castiel shook his head.

“I couldn’t remove The Mark from her Dean. But I did what I could.”  A single tear escaped Dean’s eye as he surveyed the damage.

A doctor was dead. Another Omega was tortured and almost murdered by his own and a perfectly innocent girl had been turned into a monster. His girl had been turned into a monster. 

He could only hope that Castiel had helped enough, that he could help enough, to keep you from going off the rails again.

“What did you do?” Sam asked as he stood, effortlessly carrying the girl.

“I hit the reset button. She is as she was when we cured Dean of being a demon.”

“You couldn’t…” Sam let his question hang, unfinished. 

“No,” Castiel replied, his eyes falling to the ground.

“So if we don’t cure the Mark…”

“…We’ll be right back here again.” Dean finished for Sam.

Every life you’d taken crashed to Dean’s feet as the implications of your situation settled to his shoulders. Sam knew the look and started to speak, but his own guilt settled around him like a heavy fog and shut him up. This was as much his fault as anyone’s.

If he’d listened to his brother…

“No.” Castiel answered, accidentally hearing Sam’s thoughts. “None of this is on either of you. This is on Abaddon and her followers.”  Castiel’s confident voice grated on Dean’s last nerve.

“How can you say that? How can you say this isn’t any of our fault? _We_ did this Cas. All of it! We ignored all the signs and suddenly the fucking Winchester curse strikes again and you wanna pretend that’s not on us? _Bullshit_.”  His rut was pushing his rage deeper, redirecting it now that the demon was dead and he still couldn’t have you. “A demon may have pulled the trigger but we gave it the fucking gun. Now clean up our god-damned mess so we can fix my Omega!”  

“Dean, I don’t think–” 

“We’re gonna fucking fix it, Cas!” Both Sam and the girl in his arms jumped as Dean slammed the door to the Impala and peeled out. It was the second time in as many hours that Dean had left Sam to clean up the mess they’d made.

Castiel sighed deeply as Baby’s roar faded away. “Sam…”

“I know Cas.”

“They’re both ready to mate. We don’t know what will happen if– _when_ –he claims her.” Sam closed his eyes as the girl burrowed her face into his chest, sobbing freely.

“I know, Cas. Can we just deal with one thing at a time? Please?” When Sam’s eyes opened Castiel could see the exhaustion and the guilt, so he simply nodded.

The Angel placed his hand on the girls head, putting her to sleep before sifting through and replacing her memories of her harrowing evening with those of a mugger.  “You’ll have to take her wallet.”

“Alright,” Sam whispered, “let’s get her to the hospital. And get that out of here.” He motioned to the crumpled body of Doctor Mara, feeling bad for what had happened to the woman who owned the meatsuit. 

Just another innocent. Or maybe she wasn’t, but her name was still added to the list. Sam worried over how long that list would be by the time this was finished.

##  **__~*~__**

Hours passed and you still hadn’t woken. Tucked snugly in the motel bed and wrapped in his arms, Dean had assumed your heat would wake you enough to relieve the both of you from this torture, but he’d been wrong.

He’d taken a freezing shower and teased himself to completion with his nose buried in your hair twice, but still you slept. He felt creepy, but it was the only thing keeping him from taking you while you slept. You were his, and waiting was becoming painful.

With you so close but not touching him, the music in his head was thunderous. He wondered if you were dreaming, but your eyes were completely still under the lids.

His thumb caressed your closed eyelids as he thought about the Bible he’d found. The eyelids you’d cut off. Why had you done that? Maybe when you woke you could tell him.

An idea formed in his mind as he watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest. Castiel had healed your body and mind to the best of his ability, but you were still dirty from the tumble in the parking lot. The bags under your eyes were gone, your skin was supple again and the rash on your arm was now just a faded red mark, but it still matched his own. You twitched as his shirt brushed over it, pulling your arm close but rolling into his embrace and burrowing your scorching body into his enveloping aura of safety.

Dean’s eyes closed as he wrapped you in his arms and held you like he would never let go. He felt like he was still in a dream, but your scent flooding his nose let him believe you were finally real.

After a while, he reluctantly let you go and silently made his way to the Impala. Dean shoved away the duffle bags hiding his weirdest secret.

The keyboard was still in the box, and he lugged it grudgingly inside.

The demon version of him had known how to play it because of his connection to you, despite how much he hated it.

Now he wondered if he could pull that skill back up to play for you, to wake you. After all, he’d heard it a million times in his head already, and Lane had said it was your favorite song.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you guys. All of you. 🖤 SO SO SO sorry this took so long, but thank you to everyone who held out hope for me lol

Your whimpers started the moment Dean closed the door behind him, and he knew it was your body succumbing to the heat boiling in your blood. Being surrounded by his scent, coupled with whatever Castiel had done, made it inevitable. He was physically and mentally feeling every jolt from your system as your body cried out for him, but his groin was receiving the worst of it. 

He’d resolved not to take you unless your body started to fail because he wanted you aware and coherent during the act, but with every clench of his gut he could feel the tether of his control rasping thinner. His Alpha was chomping at the bit, fuelled by the Mark and ravenous for the feast of Omega lying so helpless and ripe for the taking.

Being out of the room hadn’t helped at all. Instead, the only thing he could think about was your spiking scent, so thick in the air he’d smelled you halfway from the car and ten times worse when he closed the door behind him. He was worried about other Alphas being drawn over, and even though he knew once they scented him they’d turn tail, it still made him anxious. He wasn’t in a state to leave another Alpha alive if it came to a confrontation. 

He shut the hotel latch at the top of the door, just in case.

Dean knew there were things he should be doing; plans he should be making and enacting to clean up the aftermath of your little spree, but you were wrapping around him so completely he was drowning. Dean needed you to wake up before he lost control. Between the heat simmering under his own skin and the unreadable waves of emotion roiling inside his head, there was no telling how long either of you had left before things took a dangerous turn.

Dean’s cock felt like stone as he adjusted his pants to pull it against his abdomen, tucking the swollen head uncomfortably behind his belt because there was nowhere else for it to go. Every inhale had his throat constricting, even as he distracted himself with rearranging the room until he had the keyboard set close enough to the bed that he could sit and play while still feeling your presence. The dark energy swirling around your aura matched his own, and keeping close so they could meld made him feel calmer. Made it easier to control the urges firing through his system from all directions.

Going to the car had been the kind of torture that rivaled a few things Dean had experienced in hell; the perceived loss of you making something dark clench in his chest despite knowing exactly where you were. Dean didn’t like it, and he didn’t know what to _do_ with it aside from hitting something, so he put the feeling away, tucking it safely into the back of his mind with the hope that they’d figure everything out before he had to examine it too closely. _One thing at a time,_ he told himself. _Gotta wake the girl up first._

The girl.

_My girl._

Every doubt rose up then, and he shook away the tear that threatened to fall. He’d faced so many things with Sam by his side, but this was something they’d never really talked about. You were going to change _everything_ for both of them. He wasn’t sure he could handle it without fucking it up. Or fucking you up worse…

Dean thought’d he’d done enough damage, he didn’t see how keeping you instead of sending you back to your normal life would benefit anyone, least of all, you.

His eyes flicked to where you lay uncovered but still clothed, blanket strewn about your feet and eyes twitching under the lids. You whimpered again as he shifted for a better look at your face before he forced himself to turn back around.

##  **__**

_Blood was everywhere; layers of it caked under your nails, half dried tracks smeared up your arms, freshly dripping, almost black, patterns of macabre decoration splattered across your face._

_Your hazy reflection wavered in the mirror, grinning viciously as black eyes followed every movement of your tongue over your crimson fingers._

_You cringed inwardly, disgusted with yourself and more than a little confused. You were trapped again._

Not trapped, _a soft voice, almost feminine in quality, whispered._ Set free. This is the reality of your kind. Humans. This is your truth.

 _The mirror shimmered, twisting until you were straddling the first Omega’s chest; you hadn’t bothered to learn her name. Asphalt dug through your pants as you kept her arms pinned to her ribs, the tiny, jagged, rocks poking painfully at your knees through your jeans. The girl was screaming, begging to be let go as you smoothly cut at her, sailing the razor thin blade through her creamy flesh like a hot knife through butter. You could feel your mouth moving, but the words weren’t forming. It was like watching an old silent film as she writhed, and you talked without making a sound. Her mouth gaped open into a red, bloody, hole of pain as she took her last shuddering breath. The moment the light left her eyes you knew she was_ free _. Her pupils caught your attention as you looked over your handiwork, deciding what to do next._

_She didn’t feel…done._

_The slick, wet, red rolled off the silver blade as you tapped it thoughtfully on your leg, letting your subconscious lead the way. You hummed in satisfaction when you realized the answer was staring you right in the face._

_With a snicker you leaned forward, intending on plucking her eyelids right off, but halfway there her head snapped up, her glossy eyes honed in on you. Her pupils swelled quickly and sucked you in, toppling you head-first into a black river that swallowed you down and spiked poison through your veins that burned like hellfire._

_Every kick of your feet was useless, every gasp for air only earning mouthfuls of sludge._

_Swathed in the darkness, you could see_ everything _; **feel** everything. Every moment of pain in your life was laid bare then shoved back inside you until it was all that existed. Like being flayed alive, the pain was so icy-hot that the drowning stopped so the fire inside could grow._

 _Things_ you’d _never experienced worked their way to the surface, bubbling thick against the film of your own pain before breaking through, nasty pockets of inky black tar and when they popped, everything went white._

_Thick, heavy claws ripped into your chest, digging in right at the center to snatch that white-hot ball between giant teeth like serrated blades;_ **hellhound** _; grief so deep it twisted everything in your gut so tight it felt like you’d never breathe again;_ **Sammy, Bobby** _; guilt so heavy it crushed your bones and  minced any bit of happiness with pangs like boulders to the chest;_ **_Jo, Ellen, Ash, Dad, Pamela,_ Hell** _; wide hooks digging into every soft spot, slowly tightening until tension rips them away, taking mangled chunks of you along for the ride; **Alistair**._

_You wanted to vomit, but when your mouth opened you felt the scream in your throat._

##  **__**

After ten minutes of staring at the keys and physically restraining himself from climbing into the bed, Dean couldn’t take it anymore. Your whimpers sounded so helpless, and every few seconds you tossed over, curling and uncurling into a ball with your arms thrown across your stomach. Every time you moved the air stirred, making his nose twitch and an unwilling rumble form in his chest. There had to be something wrong. _It’s been so long…_

He _had_ to touch you. 

Dean told himself it was just to check your fever, and he was thankful he did.

He hissed as his hand came away from your forehead hot, your skin even more heated and slick than it had been when he laid you down. It was then he noticed the darkened circle of wetness you’d soaked into the bed, and panic rose in his throat.

 _OmegaOmegaOmega,_ his subconscious chanted as he jumped off the bed, but Dean forced himself through the sludge. _Omegas…What do i know about Omegas? Help. Have to help._ There had to be _something_.

Every bit of knowledge he knew was rattling around in his head was suddenly gone, like something had taken that box of memories and replaced it with a sign that said _Knots help Omegas._

The Mark had flared to life the second his skin connected with yours, and he saw the truth. Your body _was_ failing. He was going to have to knot you. 

Of every scenario he’d imagined and planned for, this had not been one of them.

_There has to be another way. There’s always another way._

As best as he could, he tried to remember the basics of what he’d learned about Omegas in middle school.

Normally he would just ask Sam if he didn’t know something, but just the thought of his brother set his blood boiling, and his brain was hyper-focused, so it was time for the next best thing. Dean sat cautiously down on the edge of the bed and pulled out his phone to start researching.

##  **__**

_The sludge was slowly turning to tar as you kicked and fought fruitlessly. The sinking feeling was literal as you slid deeper, the nasty slick of tar caressing every piece of you, but then something changed._

_A jolt ran from head to toe, snapping your eyes open and your feet to the ground. Your flailing weight brought you the rest of the way down, dropping you like a stone into a bed that made your stomach twist._

_“And how are we feeling today?” Dr Mara questioned from your bedside. Her voice was deeper than you remembered, her face charred and twisted when you turned to look.  Her cracked lips stretched into a wide grin._

What the hell are you? _You were asking the words, but they still wouldn’t come, and then she was responding but her mouth wasn’t moving and nothing was making sense._

##  **__**

_Skin contact. Knots._ Dean’s cock throbbed heavily as his eyes skimmed over article after article. It all came down to connection. “Fuck,” Dean whispered into the darkness, absently palming himself. He couldn’t take it any longer and finally removed his pants. _Just the pants,_ he told himself. _Just so it doesn’t hurt so bad._

 _Another way. Another connection,_  his coherent brain demanded, and like an answered prayer it came to him.

_Play._

##  **__**

_Your fingers were burning, and you were sitting at your piano. You knew it was the day you’d lost control. The day everything had_ really _started to go nuts, but instead of the smell of home, there was only Dean. The Alpha was all around you, and even in the dream your body clenched._

##  **__**

Dean fiddled with the first notes as his phone started playing.

He watched you carefully as he let it play through once, pleased with how you calmed. When your breathing evened out Dean restarted the song, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was difficult ignoring the way his cock throbbed and his chest tightened painfully with your scent burning through his nose, but he managed. This was best. He let his twitching fingers do the work, operating on muscle memory, so his mind was free focus on you.

He’d thought it would be hard to remember, but with the music playing in one ear and your steady but labored breathing in the other, he let himself go, quickly getting lost in the storm of rage, and lust, that had been cooking inside for far too long.  Heat flared on his arm when his phone went quiet, but Dean didn’t stop playing. He couldn’t have opened his eyes if he’d wanted to, his fingers pressing harder and faster against the only thing connecting him to you in the moment.

Well, not the _only_ thing, but Dean was pretending he wouldn’t see a glowing red mark on his arm if he opened his eyes.

He felt it when your hands landed on the keys; smelled the musk when fresh sweat broke out over your skin, and heard your voice when it joined his playing. The sound had his head whipping around, only to be disappointed that you were singing the words in your sleep.

##  **__**

_You looked curiously at your arm as sun from the window peeked through the curtains, perfectly highlighting the rash you’d had for as long as you could remember._

But I haven’t had it _forever_ …what _is_ that? _For reasons unknown, seeing it was a strange comfort. It was a gentle reminder of something you couldn’t put your finger on, but the soft warmth it was pushing into your heart was getting warmer the longer you sang, building into a pain that stole your words and twisted them into sobs._

##  **__**

When you started crying, Dean pushed away from the keyboard so hard it rattled on the stand and almost toppled over. _Fuck this._ His remaining clothes were tossed away carelessly, but a flash of something he’d read shortly before crossed his mind. 

With great restraint, Dean gathered the clothes he’d discarded and a few more shirts from his duffel and dropped them to the bed.

 _I can do this. Skin contact. Just skin._ Dean huffed a huge breath, steeling himself for what came next. You were still singing, although at a mumble, as he ripped off your pajama pants, shirt, and against his better judgement: your panties, before climbing up and slotting himself against your side. The harsh racking of your chest calmed with the feel of his skin on yours just as he’d hoped, and he pulled the piles of cloth to bunch up around your other side. Ever so slowly your mumbles faded to soft whimpers, but the tears continued. You rolled into his chest, instinctively seeking out the combination of scent and warmth that felt safest. Dean  allowed himself to reach an arm across you, his hand a solid presence on your spine as he pressed his lips close to your ear, trying hard not to rut his hard cock against your leg like a horny teenager as he scented you.

He was a fully grown Alpha, he could contain himself, but damn if it didn’t feel like the hardest thing he’d ever done. Dean’s voice felt like rocks grating in his dry throat when he finally growled out, “Omega.” Your body tightened in response, curling in and pressing closer. Dean took it as a good sign. “Been gone too long. Come back to me.”

Then he sang.

##  **__**

_**“Every road you take, will always lead you home.”** _

_Dean’s voice echoed through your foggy mind, tugging at something in your chest and distracting you from the instrument before you._

Dean. _The name brought a wave of excitement tinged with anxiety. Suddenly exhausted beyond belief and tired of the pain, you stood, almost collapsing with the sudden fatigue, to follow the crooning sound of his voice._

_It sounded like he was coming from your room, so you let the sliver of light spilling from under the door into the hallway guide from the darkness you hadn’t realized you were still steeped in. Your feet felt like cement bricks as you trudged the span of your living room to the edge of the hallway, too sluggish to move any faster despite the rising sense of desperation._

My heat. Fuck. _The thought shot across the frantic landscape of your mind, reminding you harshly of yet another thing you’d been avoiding. Possibly the most important thing._

 _A deadly thing._ Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, _you mused._

_A cramp rolled between your hips and you had to brace against the wall or risk falling into something worse. You had the surreal feeling that one wrong step would take you further down this rabbit hole instead of pulling you out._

Dean _would pull you out._

_Every motion felt like a heavy hand trying to wrench your tailbone out through your belly-button._

_The hallway seemed long, but Dean was_ right _there. You knew if you could just get to him, everything would be fine._

_You could practically hear the promise of his soul calling out to you._

That _was the light spilling out of your room when everything else was descending into the darkness, you realized distantly. His soul. “ **Omega**.” The command seemed to pulse in your arm. Come back to him. _

_You wanted to, but you suddenly didn’t know if you could. Your feet grew heavier, and when you looked down, solid black boots of concrete were growing thicker around your ankles._

_The darkness that connected you was also trying to pull you away from him, and you couldn’t understand_ why _._

What the fuck is happening to me?

 _Closing your eyes to the quickly dimming hallway, you put one foot in front of the other, scratching and scraping the walls to help pull you along for what felt like 40 years until finally,_ blissfully _, there was a doorknob in your hand._

##  **__**

“Dean?” The single croaked word brought Dean back to the moment after he’d drifted off, rutting his hips against your leg like he’d been trying not to. His eyes were laser focused as he stilled and pulled back just enough to see your face.

Your eyes were open, trained on his face, and he thanked whatever God there was that they weren’t black. They were the same perfect color that had been haunting him, although rimmed with red and watery from your tears. “Y/N,” he asked cautiously, his voice thick with obvious restraint, “that you in there?”

All you could do was nod, noticing dazedly the sheen of sweat covering him and the hard set line of his jaw before a cramp rolled through your stomach. The smell of him registered finally, scattering your wits before you’d gathered them. “Dean,” you whined, reaching out despite being pressed against him already, but he was already there. Effortlessly he was on you, rolling to press his body long and hard over yours and pushing away the sudden rush of emotion trying to assault you. Terror, lust, guilt…

“I’m here ‘Mega. You’re safe now.” He sounded so confident and his weight was so solid, so steady and so fucking real, you couldn’t help but believe him.

Without another thought you pressed your lips to his and wrapped your legs around his hips to grip him tightly. You realized you were both naked already and sighed happily into his mouth as his lips parted for you, letting you explore him before he took over. His body felt like heaven against your heated skin, every cell crying out for what only he could give you. “Alpha,” you moaned when he rutted the underside of his cock down your soaked slit, “Need you.”

“I know, ‘Mega,” he grunted, pulling back to get a good look at you. He couldn’t help the grin as you whined for him, feeling bereft.

“It’s so bad, Dean,” you groaned, pushing up for more, searching for anything to soothe the ache.

“Shh, I got you.” With your legs locked around him, Dean couldn’t do much, so he squeezed his hand between your bodies and rubbed quick, strong circles over your clit until your legs clamped tighter. He had your thighs and stomach quivering quickly, and unable to hold on they released, your legs falling to the bed helplessly. Taking advantage of the easier access he slid his hand down, thick fingers teasing at your entrance as his thumb took their place at the top of your swollen folds. Your back arched and liquid lust flooded your veins when he spoke. “That’s it ‘Mega.” he crooned encouragingly. “That’s my good girl,” you bucked your hips harder into his hand, his voice and fingers working to beckon your orgasm on. He dropped to one arm by your head, hovering his lips over yours while the other hand moved faster, sliding his thumb over your clit and pushing slightly inside your spasming entrance and holding them there until you wailed out your first orgasm. 

“Fuck, Dean” you whispered as your hips relaxed down to the mattress, a gentle clench in your core and the fire still burning through your veins telling you that you weren’t anywhere near done. That didn’t seem to be a problem as Dean captured your mouth again. Without warning he plunged two fingers deep into your pussy, curling them upward in search of your spot and earning a surprised gasp from you that he consumed happily, his tongue reaching inside your mouth in search of your taste. Dean groaned as your wet heat swallowed his fingers eagerly, clenching and trying to pull him deeper. He’d only pumped them three times before you were ready to crest again, your fingers clawing at his back, his arms, his ribs, anything you could use to keep from coming apart at the seams. As his fingers slowed, your hands relaxed enough for him to feel comfortable with you touching him where he wanted it most.

“Grab my cock, ‘Mega. Feel how hard I am for you.” He jerked his fingers inside your pussy, finally finding your spot and making you squeal. “Think about how hard I’m gonna knot this sweet little Omega pussy.” With a sloppy nod you brought your lips back to his. You fought back a gasp, but it still came out as a gurgle, when your hand closed around the base of his cock.

The question of ‘will it fit?’ only had a moment to process before he was pulling his fingers from you. He scooped your slick along with them and used it to coat his cock before lining up with your twitching hole. The arm holding him up started to shake as he looked down at you for confirmation. After holding back for so long, he was surprised by his own resolve. If his Alpha had its way, you’d have been a hormonal wreck, awake or not, hours ago.

“Please,” you whined, rolling your hips until the head of his cock sank in. Unable to deny himself with you surrounding him so completely, Dean took the hint and pressed forward. Your eyes rolled as he easily slid deeper, slick easing the way for him to open you wider than you’d dreamed possible. Breath left your lungs in great heaves as you clutched at his shoulders, pleasure tingling through the pain until all that was left was a sense of completion that sang through your body.

“Fuck, ‘Mega, so tight,” Dean groaned, dropping his weight down to smother your mouth with is own as he bottomed out. He couldn’t get enough of how good you tasted. It was almost better than your smell.

“First–Alpha,” you managed through his kisses, squirming impatiently. With his chest pressed so close you felt the growl reverberate through you just before he started moving. The burn of his cock stretching you open faded quickly as his body slid down yours, and the first thrust had you seeing stars; the second, crying out his name.

Everything fell away as Dean was finally overcome by his rut, the Alpha in him demanding he take what was his by right. Sweat poured as he started a reckless pace, filling you over and over. The clash of his pelvis into your clit stole your pain and confusion, replacing it with heat, and love, and pleasure, that had you threatening to splinter into a million pieces. Dean’s knot started to swell, and you felt his sac tighten against your ass. He was grunting into your ear, whispering gibberish you were sure was supposed to be words, but it didn’t matter because everything in you was focused on the tightening coil in your gut.

Being with an Alpha was _fulfilling_ ; it felt _right_. _So_ right, and you couldn’t believe you’d put it off for so long.

“Gonna knot you baby,” were the only words that registered before he was slamming inside harder than before, lodging his quickly thickening knot as deep as it would go just before it popped and triggered your orgasm. The careful decision not to mark you went out the window alongside his original plans to use a condom as your body locked up and your scent spiked. Dean’s teeth sank deep into your shoulder, pulling a scream from your already raw throat. His sweaty forehead was forced into the pillow as your arms and legs flexed around him, your walls shuddering and milking his cock until he was spilling inside you.

Dean felt the pangs in his arm at the same time you did, and his teeth dug deeper. His snarl was drowned out by your second scream as his cock throbbed heavily inside you, spurting more cum than your body could handle and pushing you higher and into another round of shivers as you felt it leak out around his knot.

He lay panting on top of you as he recovered, laving the bloody bite mark with his tongue to stop the bleeding and soothe the sharp ache he knew you would feel. A soft grunt from you made him realize he was probably crushing you, and with a small chuckle he rolled. His knot tugged against your entrance, making you moan until he wrapped his arms tightly around your back. The unfamiliar feeling of being so unbelievably stuffed sent a buzz tingling along behind the lingering vestiges of your orgasms, but mixed thoroughly with the throbbing at your neck. Dean kept you snug to his chest as finished the roll and settled back into the mattress with your body draped across his.

The beating of his heart echoed through your ear as you tried to catch your breath, the electric feel of his skin under yours not fading like you’d expected. Dean’s fingers combed through your matted hair, stopping for a moment on your forehead. You snuggled into the touch, but when he was satisfied you weren’t feverish he let his hand drop between your shoulderblades. You were disgruntled at the loss, but when his calloused fingers started to trace lazy circles across your skin you settled. You hummed softly, easily getting lost again in the buzz of…whatever was connecting you.

 _A mark is connecting you_ , your mind provided helpfully, but the full feeling where your body joined with Dean’s kept your mind fogged and let you push it away. Logic told you everything about this was wrong, but biology was telling you otherwise. His fingers now held a tether to your heart, and it seemed to beat in time with his movements now. Maybe it always had.

You turned your head until your chin rested in the dip between Dean’s pecs. When your eyes met, fresh heat bloomed. How was someone so perfectly beautiful so real? 

How was that someone yours after all you’d done? Another round of slick gushed around him and mixed with his cum, trickling more out around his knot. His jaw dropped slightly with the feeling, and your hips wiggling prompted him to thrust up. He grinned at the way your eyes rolled before closing. His hands trailed further down your back until he could grab your ass in both hands and hold your hips down with unexpected strength.

You groaned when the action pressed your swollen clit down against him and he started to grind with slow, gentle motions. “Fuck, Dean,” you whispered, getting lost in the sensations before he released you.

“I know, ‘Mega,” he grumbled, “but I’m afraid we got some things to talk about before I fuck you again.We’re probably gonna be here a while.” You ground your hips down petulantly in disagreement, mewling low in your chest. You sat up slowly, ignoring his protests that you’d hurt yourself. Carefully, you slid back until you were seated upright, mounted on his cock with your legs on either side of his hips. The view was everything Dean could have imagined and more; he couldn’t have dreamt a sight as wonderful your body rising above him as he filled you from below, perfect breasts swaying in time with every movement. It took everything in Dean not to cry out at the pull of his knot inside your clenched walls and your nails digging hard into his chest as you adjusted to the deeper angle. He wanted to snatch your hips in his hands and knot fuck you, but you’d said…

 _Fuck,_ he realized, _she said first Alpha._ The thought had his cock twitching inside you all over again.

Dean’s body was a tension rod, hands fisting into the sheets and heels digging into the mattress as he remained ready to snap the moment you showed any sign of being really ready.

The slick your body couldn’t seem to stop producing was helping his case, easing the slide of your clit across the hair on his pelvis as you experimented with the different angles of your hips, despite being unable to move very far. 

Your hands trailed down his chest, nails leaving white lines that flushed red after they passed. One hand continued the trail to your mound, sliding between your joined bodies to feel where his knot was locked inside you. Dean threw his head back into the pillow, slamming his eyes shut against the temptation. He felt your pussy clench around him as you seated your palm against your slit, your fingers sliding to either side of his cock and increasing the pressure. His hips jerked up involuntarily, making you squeak in surprise.

“Woah, Alpha,” you soothed, forcing your eyes to stay open and trained on the harsh lines of pleasure running across your mate’s face.

Holy shit. _Mate._ The marks on your neck and arm tingled in response. Dean’s hands came to rest on your hips, unable to refrain from touching you any longer. It was almost too much as you moved, your free hand guiding one of his to your breast. Dean’s eyes popped open and he went to work without prompting, his gaze eating up the way your nipples tightened to little buds under his ministrations. His fingers faltered when his eyes fell to your neck, where his mark lay.

He stilled, feeling like someone had thrown ice water over him. You whined and moved your hand faster, pushing yourself back to the peak in no time, never noticing his reaction. Your orgasm hit just as his knot softened, your walls fluttering and clenching around his oversensitive cock and making him release the cry of your name that he’d been holding back. He grabbed your tits so tight you knew there would be bruises.

The pain amplified your pleasure and you stayed over him, shoving down harder while shuddering and whimpering until the last waves faded.

 When you opened your eyes you saw the blood trickling from his lip from where he’d bitten down and felt a flash of guilt.

Your pout as you slid off of him had to be the cutest thing he’d ever seen, and almost broke his resolve to talk everything out once he caught his breath. 

Almost, but not quite.

Dean wanted to properly introduce himself. He couldn’t have you thinking he was just some knot-brained Alpha. “Time to talk now?” he groaned, rolling to his side so he could see and touch you.

“I guess so,” you mumbled with not entirely fake discontent. You put both hands under your cheek  and watched him carefully, fully intending on letting him take the lead for the conversation. That’s what Alphas were for, after all. It was probably for the best too, because all you could think about was the thin trail of blood starting down his jaw and when he could knot you again. He’d found you and brought you here, he had to know something, but your mind was still buzzing happily and you could feel the heat licking under your skin, building back up quickly. You needed more.

“Um–well–” He started haltingly. All that Alpha confidence had left him all of a sudden. When you quirked a brow he chuckled and wiped a hand down his face. “This is awkward.”

“I dreamt you up, you knotted me, and your mark is on my neck, but _now_ it’s awkward?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his expression, and then yourself. Your first full sentence to him was a smartass remark, and you couldn’t say you were surprised.

The ridiculousness of the last year of your life had your booming laughter quickly turning to tears. The playful smile was quickly gone from his face, and he leaned forward to capture your tear-stained lips into a kiss.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Y/N,” he whispered against your lips.

“You keep saying that,” you mumbled back while returning his kiss.

“And I mean it.” He pulled away with a smile that was a little more composed than before. Dean cleared his throat importantly as he looked straight into your eyes with a sly smile. “Hello, Y/N. My name is Dean Winchester, and I’m your Alpha.”

## 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.

Halfway to the hospital Sam broke the silence, taking a quick scan of the poor Omega girl, Carrie, to make sure she was still fast asleep before speaking. “Cas, we can’t let him do this.”

“It’s done by now, Sam.” Castiel didn’t miss the clench of Sam’s jaw, but with what he now knew, this had been inevitable. In this particular fight against Fate, they’d lost miserably. “It was done the moment we let him take her. Getting between an Alpha and his Omega is never an intelligent decision, but I felt their connection, Sam. When I healed Y/N I sensed her soul and it was–” Castiel huffed, frustration seeping through as he came to terms the new information in his head, then tried to form the words to make Sam understand. “–Her soul is damaged similarly to Dean’s. It’s whole, I _think_ , but I don’t believe either of them will ever be the same. The Mark is–”

“I know, Cas.” Sam whispered, “I know what the Mark does.” A long silence stretched as Sam attempted to sort out what this all meant for his brother. “You know…this is the worst time for Dean to shove off into some–some, extra jacked up Bonnie and Clyde murder act. I mean Cas, she killed like _nine_ people, and that’s only what we know of! She killed a hunter, you said so yourself. We’ve killed monsters for less, and Dean’s barely holding on as it is–”

“–It’s not her fault Sam. Y/N is not a monster, she’s a human. I would think that you of all people–”

“–It’s just that throwing himself into an Omega _just_ as messed up as he is–” Sam’s knuckles whitened where he gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“–Is a recipe for disaster, yes, I know, but they are true mates. There’s nothing we can do.”

“There always something Cas.” The silence resumed, loaded and heavy, and continued even after the girl had been properly dropped off at the hospital. 

## __

Sam didn’t quite understand why Castiel hadn’t flitted off to somewhere less stressful, normally he’d be gone by now. Instead of leaving, Castiel stayed by his side as they walked back to their own motel from Lane’s.

“True mates, huh?” Sam asked after a while, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The concept was so foreign; he wasn’t sure either him or Dean had ever even believed in any such thing, especially with the lives they lived. The side streets were dark and empty, devoid of anything interesting enough to keep Sam from overthinking. The Alpha knew the Angel was right about one thing, atleast: it wasn’t Y/N’s fault she’d gotten wrapped up into this mess they’d created. Castiel nodded solemnly.

“That must be the source of their psychic connection.”

“I thought that was just some fairy tale…or just genetic compatibility or something.” Castiel shook his head.

“Not at all. They’re rare, but it is a soul connection. You probably have one waiting somewhere as well.” 

Sam avoided Castiel’s last statement. “Did you see anything else while you were in her head?” The side-eye Castiel gave him before looking away spoke volumes. “What? What did you see? Anything that could help us figure out the Mark?” Sam found he was almost afraid of the answer as Castiel inhaled deeply.

“I saw…everything Sam, but there’s nothing inside Y/N that can help us find a cure.”

##  **__~*~__**

Dean’s thick fingers kneaded into your shoulders, lazily exploring the dip and curve of your muscles. Your smile was soft as you let his tingling touches wander your skin while your fingers trailed over the keys of the cheap keyboard, playing ‘See You Again,’ the song that had been haunting him. When he’d explained how you had followed him in that way you’d had to giggle. It wasn’t your favorite song like he, and apparently Lane, thought– _oh god, Lane_ , you thought, but pushed it away– it just happened to be the one you’d been playing when you had collapsed the first time. It had haunted you too, you thought. It was hard to be sure.

Memories were still surfacing and rearranging inside your head, forcing you to sift through the mess. However, the night everything had begun had been clear as glass since it had come back.

An average day in your average life had ended with a glass of wine and your piano, grumbling about your shitty workday and contemplating yet another dating site until suddenly you’d found yourself in searing pain and curled into a ball on the floor. From then on it had been nothing but nightmares and sleepless nights until you’d been committed.

Telling Dean that part of the story was equal parts cathartic and painful, but you hadn’t been able to explain past being released from the facility. Those memories were still too much, but Dean knew enough to fill in the blanks on his own.

He’d dreamt your experiences as you had his.

Dean connected the timelines for you carefully, and realized you had been connected since he’d taken The Mark. Then he’d managed to explain what the Mark of Cain even was, and how he’d come to recieve it. That story had culminated with your tears but ended with you on all fours, just like every snippet of conversation the two of you had attempted since mating the first time. His bite mark throbbed deliciously, igniting the heat still simmering under your skin.

He couldn’t keep his hands off you, even when he wasn’t fucking you. The need for your skin on his was almost a physical presence it was so intense, and your scents had long ago combined into something intoxicating that kept you both on the edge of arousal for what had seemed like days, though it had only been overnight. The sunlight peeking through the curtains and spilling onto the shitty carpet was mesmerizing as you tapped the last key and held it, letting the sound linger. Behind you, Dean raised up and planted a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

“It’s so much prettier when you play it.” He mumbled, his mouth settling over his bite to worry his teeth at the healing scar.

“Mmm, yeah. I’ve had some practice…but I think I’d rather hear you sing it.” Dean knew you’d heard him sing before, while you’d been sleeping, but he groaned at the thought of having to do it again.

“Not today sweetheart.”

“Oh come on,” you turned around and pressed against him, forcing him onto his back so you could crawl over him. “I love it.” When you pecked your lips teasingly against his, Dean grabbed your hips and pinned his erection between your bodies, following your mouth up as you tried to pull away.

##  **__~*~__**

Sam hadn’t slept well, spending all night after Castiel explained what he thought had happened to you doing research. He’d sent the Angel to the bunker for some books he thought might help, but in the end Sam had fallen asleep at the little motel table, drooling over the ancient tomes until the shrill ringing of his cellphone dragged him from the fitful rest.

“Agent Betts?” Officer Bishop asked the second his call was answered.

“Hm?” Sam grunted, sleep leaving him confused for a moment. “Oh, yeah. Yes. Can I help you?” The voice was familiar, and he shook the grogginess off quickly when he realized it was Bishop.

“One of Y/N’s doctors is back at the station, and uh…he says he has information about her he needs to share, but he won’t talk to anyone but you.”

“I’ll be right there.”  After hanging up, Sam checked his messages. He hoped there would be one from Dean, but there were only three missed calls–all from Lane–and a text from Castiel about having some business to take care of. The latter worried him, but not as much as not hearing from his brother.

Half an hour later, Sam was sitting across from a seemingly different man than he’d met the first day they’d arrived. Instead of bristling when the giant Alpha walked through the door, Doctor Cameron slouched his shoulders and shifted his gaze down to the table. Sam frowned, immediately realizing the man had been through the ringer. His initial theory that both doctors were in on Y/N’s situation was revised upon seeing the doctor was disheveled, sporting a deep black eye with a giant knot beside it.

“Morning, Doctor,” Sam said evenly as he dropped to the chair across from Cameron.

“I know you’re not FBI,” Cameron conspiratorially leaned forward and whispered, his normally flat voice holding a frantic edge.

“That so?” Sam raised an eyebrow, only mildly surprised at the turn of events. Maybe this doctor knew more than Sam was giving him credit for.

“Yes. I know Doctor Mara wasn’t human. And I know your name is Winchester.”

Sam didn’t like the sound of that, and leaned forward menacingly. He kept his eyes locked to the other Alpha’s and his shoulders squared. Cameron bristled when Sam’s scent strengthened, dominating his own. The hunter’s voice held a dangerous edge, telling Cameron to tread carefully as Sam growled out,  “I’m listening.”

##  **__~*~__**

“Do you think it was the hypnosis or the magic?” You asked breathily, right hand stretching over Dean’s ribs at the spot over his heart. The thick thumps were just as frantic as yours, but slowing down as he recovered from knotting you the umpteeth time.

“Huh?” He grunted before realizing what you meant. Dean shifted lower on the pillows and tucked you closer into his left side. He was enjoying these moments too much, and held you tighter for fear you could disappear at any moment. “Oh, that connects us? I dunno. Hard to tell when you mix magic and science like that.” Your unsure ‘hm’ had him pressing his lips to your forehead. Rationality was starting to creep back in as the adrenaline ramped down, leaving your bodies all but useless for the time being. “I’m sorry I did this to you.”

The apology was unexpected and you pulled away, propping your head on his bicep to look him in the eyes. “What do you mean?” The greens seemed alive as he stared at you with new intensity, guilt hiding transparently behind the vibrant colors. You couldn’t recall anywhere in the story where he’d personally inflicted you with the Mark, and your confusion was obvious.

“If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be in this mess. You wouldn’t have–”

“Don’t say it,” you snapped, body stiffening against his. You held your Alpha’s gaze for a moment before burying yourself back to his chest.

“Omega,” Dean warned, but you sat up in a huff to glare at the wall, unable to meet his gaze if he was going to force the conversation.  

“I _know_ what i did, but I don’t wanna talk about it, okay?” When you turned to look at him, for the first time you didn’t see lust…not in the way he was looking at you, nor in the way you were seeing him.

For the first time you were reminded that you were _strangers_. Connected in two very important, disturbingly strong, ways, yes, but still completely alienated from one another. He’d been inside your mind and your body, but the lives you’d lived were lightyears apart. Tears pricked at your eyes as you forced yourself to look back at the ugly wallpaper across the room.

Would it be possible to ever close that distance? You didn’t even know yourself any longer, how could he?

The venomous thoughts whirled in your gaze, and Dean saw them clearly because he’d seen that look in the mirror a thousand times.

“Hey,” his voice was quiet but firm as he sat up beside you, his giant shoulder bumping against yours playfully. “I’m gonna sort it out. All of it. The Mark, your… _case_. You’re not gettin’ in any trouble for this, sweetheart, I swear it” Your own guilt slammed into you as he wrongly assumed what you’d been thinking; the lives you’d taken, the things you’d said…you knew those weren’t your fault, but under the confusion it was still a heavy weight. 

When you looked up into his earnest gaze however, you were lost again, the chill of moments before being replaced by the familiar warmth emanating from your arm.

He hissed when you did as the warmth increased to painful levels, and a moan escaped your chest when you were forced to shake off the quick flashes of blood and eyelids. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, pulling your arm close to inspect the vague rash. When the angel had healed you it had gone away. Disappointedly, you realized you should have known it was too good to be true. Everything was going to crash down around you soon, you could feel it as well as you could smell the coming rain. “I guess even Angels can’t fix us.”

##  **__~*~__**

“Something highly unnatural is going on with Y/N,” Doctor Cameron said around a mouth full of croissant. After verifying he wasn’t full of shit, Sam had brought him to a diner for breakfast before heading to the motel to see Dean and his Omega. They needed to arrive with arms full of refreshments for the newly mated couple or risk being torn apart by Dean for even knocking on the door.

“You _think_?” Sam scoffed, but kept his voice low as he continued. “You let a demon fuck with a psychiatric patient. What did you _think_ was gonna happen?”

“I didn’t know what she was!” Cameron defended. “I thought we were conducting–”

“–Highly unethical, unauthorized, treatments on mentally ill patients? Yeah, much better.” The Doctor balked at Sam’s interruption, but Sam ignored it. “In another life, I would have been the one making sure you ended up behind bars for pulling something like this, but I’ll just have to settle for fixing your mistakes instead.” Sam beckoned with two fingers toward the spiral notebook Cameron had kept on his side of the table. With a glare he slid “Doctor Mara’’s notebook across to Sam.

“We were conducting unprecedented research in the field of Omega Psychiatric Studies, I don’t deserve jail time, Mr Winchester, I deserve a Nobel!” Cameron snapped indignantly. “Doctor Mara didn’t tell me what she had going on, but it’s all in here. Very disturbing. Explains why she never let anyone look at her notes, not even Doctor Adams.” Cameron grudgingly dug back into his food as Sam flipped through the pages of a demon’s journal. He knew Cameron wasn’t lying, but he was disquieted with how easily the hypnotist had accepted this new knowledge of the supernatural, like demons were no big thing compared to the fact that his research had been compromised. It was disgusting.  

“Who’s Doctor Adams?” Sam frowned at the name, thinking it sounded familiar.

“Oh, he was Y/N’s psychotherapist. In charge of her meds and all her therapies, but Mara was always sticking her nose in since she was the lead on the case. Shame, really. Seems like he’s one of the few that actually cares about their patients in that place.” That’s where Sam knew the name from, Y/N’s file.

“Why didn’t he come when Y/N disappeared, if he cared so much?” The poor excuse for an Alpha just shrugged and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Had a full case-load when we got the news I guess. I didn’t ask because he’s a nosey asshole.” Cameron cleared his throat as he finished his food and spoke up again. “If you’re thinking about calling him, he can’t help. Only I can. You see, Y/N is still technically hypnotized.”

Sam’s head snapped up from where he’d gone back to looking through the notes in his hand, long hair whipping him in the face. “Come again?”

“Yes. When she attacked me I tried to release her from the session, but whatever dream she was in had her locked inside. Something about a man named Lester,” Sam blanched, but Cameron didn’t notice. “Then Mara pumped her full of drugs, which probably made everything worse despite all appearances. You’ll have to look in there–” he motioned to the cursed notebook that contained nothing good, “–to find out which ones, but, technically speaking, Y/N could still be locked inside a dream. I need to see my patient, Mr. Winchester.”

Sam growled, his unexpectedly protective hackles rising. It suddenly dawned on him that if Dean had marked Y/N, she was family now, and after what he’d done, Cameron would never touch Dean’s Omega again. Especially now that they had another option. “I don’t think so. We’re done here. Breakfast on me.” Sam dropped a $50 bill on the table. “Thanks for this,” he said dismissively, tilting the notebook toward Cameron before standing to his full height. Sam used all 6’4” at his disposal as he loomed over the doctor who’d assisted in the mess they were in. The atmosphere in the restaurant shifted as he did, the challenge made clear for anyone to see, or smell. “You need to go back to wherever you’re from. Today. _Now_. And if I ever see you again, especially near Y/N, I’ll shoot you.” Without a backward glance Sam left the smaller Alpha glaring at his back and coming to the realization that everything he’d worked for was effectively leaving with the hunter.

##  **__~*~__**

Cold showers were a staple of Omega life, but having an Alpha in there with you brought the experience to a whole new level. Dean’s fiery hands contrasted perfectly with the freezing water, soothing and exciting you simultaneously. Your nipples were sore from the constant attention, but thankfully your Alpha had realized this and softened his touches to a light caress.

The bruises littering your skin made you smile as you examined them in the dim lighting, physical evidence that you finally had the Alpha you’d always pretended not to dream of. Part of you thought maybe you’d set feminism or the Omega rights movements back a few years, but couldn’t find it in you to care as you turned in his arms under the spray. It had come with a hefty price, but when Dean’s body slotted so perfectly against yours better than anything you could have ever imagined, you knew it was worth it. _He_ was worth it.

The dead eyes of your combined victims dancing in your nightmares begged to differ, but that could wait until reality set in.

##  **__**

A knock on the door pulled Dean from the nap you’d both succumbed to late in the morning, and he groaned as his shoulder protested the awkward position your upper body was pinning his arm into when he tried to sit up.

“Go away,” Dean grunted, already knowing the scent of his brother before he’d fully woken up. Sating his rut had helped the immediate rage he held for his younger sibling and his angelic friend, but all wasn’t completely forgiven.

“I have bacon,” came the muffled response, and a quick sniff confirmed Sam was telling the truth. He’d brought greasy diner food, which went a long way with Dean in the moment considering neither of you had eaten in almost twenty-four hours.

“Alright, hold on.” The conversation had already woken you partially, and Dean finished the job by rolling into you and snuggling his nose close to your ear. “‘Mega,” he whispered, “we’ve got company…and the company has bacon. You might wanna put some clothes on before I let him in.” He smiled when you cracked one eye open.

“Bacon?”

 


End file.
